2 One Month One War
by Pengping
Summary: Pre-Thor. Sequel to "The Supers Before the Heroes." Tilaria has returned to Alfheim knowing Hallien will kill her. She however is not the true threat to Alfheim for Crow's newest pawn is a traitor with blood magic and elves loyal to him. He wants King Hallien dead, and only blood can counter blood. Tilaria is the only one, as a blood mage herself, who can stop him, and Crow's plan.
1. Warm Welcome

Bifrost set its passenger down on Alfheim's surface gently, but the shock of suddenly meeting solid ground after weightlessly flying through space still made the passenger feel like they had jumped off a room as her knees and ankles took the brunt of the shock. There was a soft crackling noise around her as the embers with the image Bifrost always branded into the ground went out. Tilaria did not notice the embers around her or the sunlight overhead in one of the very few places where Alfheim's canopy of trees was broken. She did not let her legs buckle.

Her goodbye with the Princes a few minutes ago on Asgard had bought her a little extra time, so Arlen's body was gone from the clearing along with everyone else. Only King Hallien of Alfheim remained to greet her, and Tilaria knew she would not enjoy his greeting one bit.

Tilaria's intense mental training that she had undergone as a child – that all Ljósálfr children underwent – prevented her from cringing as Hallien walked over to the burnmark where she stood. He said nothing, but his eyes, eyes so pale a blue they looked like chips of ice, stared at Tilaria's deep fuchsia eyes with a similarly neutral expression. As he approached Tilaria lowered her eyes in a submissive gesture and waited for him to speak, for she knew that he would.

"Do you have any defense for killing my council member half-breed?" Hallien asked, a flash of anger illuminating his otherwise emotionless eyes.

"He attempted to kill me," Tilaria replied cautiously.

She took care to keep her hands by her side and to not rest her fingers on the hilt of her dagger. Right now, the last thing she wanted to do was appear threatening and give Hallien another reason to kill her. Her life hung like the sword of Damocles, and it was Hallien who would decide if the sword should fall on her. Likely there was nothing Tilaria could say or do to survive, but she was too stubborn not to try.

"Your life is not worth Arlen's, or any elf." Hallien reminded her with a slight hiss to his voice, showing a slight flare of emotion as he rested one of his hands on the hilt of one of his daggers.

Tilaria realized that this time playing submissive wouldn't work. Since she was going to be executed for killing Arlen anyway she figured she had nothing left to lose, and switched tactics to try and anger Hallien.

"Arlen was ordered to kill Asgard's Princes," Tilaria accused Hallien brazenly, "but I stopped him. In order to stop him, I killed him."

She took a step forward towards Hallien and tilted her head up to meet Hallien's icy gaze that was starting to submit to the fiery emotion of hate. "I wonder who ordered him to kill those boys because who on Alfheim would want Odin's sons dead? If they were dead then Asgard would be in chaos without an heir, and a chaotic Asgard is one easily conquered. Correct, Hallien?"

Arlen did not let her finish her sentence, and struck her. He did so with his hand rather than his blade, luckily for Tilaria, and the crack echoed through the thick forest. Against Hallien's will his hand was trembling, and he lowered it to his side to try and hide the tremble.

"The princes were not the target," Hallien snarled as his control over his anger slipped. "They were an added bonus. You were the one that Arlen was supposed to arrange the death for, for with one of my royal family dead, it would give me grounds for a blood vengeance on Asgard. It would have been war, and we would have won, but Arlen attacked you directly instead of through a third party and he didn't manage to kill you or the princes."

Tilaria slowly raised her head, and her bangs that had fallen over her face fell back to reveal the handprint on her cheek. "Aren't you bold, admitting everything when Heimdall could be listening."

"Asgard's watchdog is far from perfect," Hallien assured Tilaria, "especially against my power."

He reached up and touched the Emerald Crown he wore on his brow, the proof and symbol of Alfheim's ruler.

"The power of my crown is equal to Gungnir's after all," Hallien said darkly with something akin to a twisted smile.

Tilaria understood Arlen's actions now. He had acted out of turn, and Hallien's war that might have ended with Ljósálfr dominance had slipped from his fingers because of Arlen's mistake of attacking directly. With Arlen dead, there was no one for Hallien to vent his frustration on other than Tilaria.

"Now you return to my care, fosterling." Hallien's twisted smile grew to something that might be called delighted until Hallien managed to regain control of his emotions, and continue in a calmer voice. "You ruined my plan and killed Arlen. Now you stand before me, acting as if you have not a worry in the world, as if I won't kill you."

"I know you would, and probably will," Tilaria corrected him. "Since I am likely going to be executed soon, I thought I might as well speak my mind for once. By the way, it was Arlen who ruined your plan when he attacked me, not the other way around."

"You have no right!" Hallien snarled as his emotional suppression slipped up yet again, for Tilaria had a knack for angering him. "No right to your smug tone, or to your heartbeat."

There was a brief hiss of metal as Hallien drew one of his daggers, and the polished blade reflected the midday sun that poured through the break in the canopy. Tilaria's first reflex was to draw her own blade, and although she grabbed her hilt she stopped short of actually drawing it. The only reason she had survived her fight with Arlen was because of blood, but thanks to the Emerald Crown's protection she could not use her blood against Hallien, and that meant she could not defeat him.

"Every being has a right to life." Tilaria whispered remembering that Hallien had struck her with his hand in his anger instead of his blade, and hopeful that she could duplicate that injury if she angered him enough. "Even a Halfling like me. Or do you say I had no right to interrupt your plot to overthrow Asgard by saving two other lives?"

Hallien's hand was trembling again, but this time with anger, and he laughed in a short harsh sound at Tilaria's declaration. "Your right was to die abandoned in the forest."

The King shook his head mockingly, attempting to distract Tilaria's attention while he charged a hex in his free hand. "Anastasia should have left you to die, but she didn't and she brought you back to the palace. She should have left you there, but she would not me get rid of you either after her death for she wished me to continue raising you. That I have done and now you, whose right to life was forfeited by your family when they left you, rob Arlen of his?"

Tilaria's sense caught a flicker of magic around his form, and Hallien seemed aware that he had been detected for he lashed out with the stunhex. A hex of that nature was just what she expected, and Tilaria drew her dagger as she stepped to one side. The hex slid across the flat of her dagger as she raised it, and parried his hex away from her as if it were a thrust from an enemy sword.

Hallien was not surprised that she was able to parry his hex, and so glided in close while Tilaria was recovering from her parry. She didn't have a chance to bring her dagger into position, so Tilaria threw up a defensive ward between herself and Hallien. It was the wrong move evidently, for Hallien energized his dagger and smashed threw her ward as if it were a window.

He grabbed her by her throat with his free hand as he kicked her legs out from under her and slammed her to the ground. Tilaria used the physical contact to try and hit Hallien with a mindflare, but he deftly shredded her clumsy telepathic attack. As if to show her how it was done, he responded with a mindflare of his own and his attack tore through the shields around her mind.

To Tilaria, it felt like someone had hit her in the head with a frying pan, but the feeling of pain did not fade away. It grew, spreading like fire to the nervous synapses in her mind. Her mind was left reeling, and Tilaria was sure she screamed, but if she was she wasn't aware of it from the pressure Hallien was applying to her throat.

"Son of a-" Tilaria swore and kicked Hallien in the chest with one of her feet, satisfactorily sending him sailing backwards.

Although humans used the expression "cat always lands on its feet," it was actually incorrect. A more accurate wording would be an "elf always lands on their feet" for that was what Hallien did. He slid backwards for a second, but remained upright.

Tilaria knew that she had but bought herself a few seconds, and she rolled onto her side to try and stand up. The attempt was in vain however, for her mind was still in shock from Hallien's attack. Breaking the mindflare by knocking Hallien away from her no longer seemed like such a good idea. Her breathing was ragged from the aftereffects, and her heartbeat had quickened unnaturally.

Hallien began to walk over to her slowly and calmly, and Tilaria was aware of the imminent danger. Her mind simply would not stop reeling from her fumbled technique at breaking the mindflare, so although she could see her blade lying less than in from her fingers, she could not force her hand to move and pick the blade up. Tilaria tried harder to force her mind to recover and reached for the blade, willing her nerves to respond to her thoughts.

The heel of a boot came down on her hand just as her fingertips touched the dagger's hilt, and Hallien levitated Tilaria's blade from the ground to his open hand casually. Tilaria gave a choked noise as Hallien put his weight on her hand, but even her voice was having difficulty working. Hallien looked at the blade he had recently gained custody of rather than at Tilaria as he applied pressure to the point where her bones splintered.

Tilaria bit her lip hard enough that a drop of blood ran down her chin. Although the Emerald Crown would protect Hallien from blood magic, it would not stop Tilaria from turning her magic on herself and that was exactly what Tilaria did. With a rush of adrenaline that came from the use of blood, Tilaria pushed herself up and whipped a leg around to land a solid kick to Hallien's knee. Her reward was for him to take a buckling step back with a curse, and the sound of cracked bone and torn ligaments that proved she had managed to damage his knee joint.

Her spin had snapped her wrist, but Tilaria didn't notice from the rush of blood. Hallien had dropped her dagger when her kick had connected, and Tilaria snatched it with her good hand as she scrambled to her feet and hoped back several meters to distance herself from Hallien. There was a defiant look in her eyes that warned him that she would not let him kill her quietly.

Hallien seemed to realize as much as he stood on one leg to take the pressure off the injured limb while it healed. With a tsk that he would have to reveal his secret to her, he waved his free hand and made a motion like he was grabbing something out of thin air. Light glimmered as he opened a subspace pocket he had created and a gun fell into his hand.

Tilaria was startled to see a Ljósálfr with a gun until she realized exactly what it was Hallien had just pulled out of subspace. It was no gun, but a sleek black Dökkálfr disruptor. How in Yggdrasil had Hallien gotten ahold of a _Dökkálfr energy disruptor_?

Hallien's grip tightened on the gun and he raised it to Tilaria. She fell into a fighting stance as she prepared for fight or flight when the sun of amber and topaz on the Emerald Crown glittered. The trees around Hallien came to life at the Emerald Crown's call, and groaned as the branches shifted.

Tilaria looked around, and realized that flight might be the wiser course for her to take. Trees were Hel to fight against because unlike normal opponents they had no vital organs, no ability to feel pain, and the solid wood forms hurt. She had no intention of fighting one.

Roots from one of the nearby trees wrapped themselves around Tilaria's right foot and started to twist up her leg. There was no way she could teleport now with the tree wrapped around her. She held her free hand towards the roots, intending to blast them away with killhex when Hallien pulled the trigger. Tilaria had forgotten he was there, and the shot of electrified plasma from the Dökkálfr disruptor did the rest.

* * *

**This story takes place on Alfheim, and since Marvel has not introduced us to any Ljósálfr it is an OC story. The events that happen throughout this month are vital to later stories where Asgard and its inhabitants are involved. Repercussions from the events in this story are felt 500 years from now after the events of the first _Avengers_ movie, because this is where a supervillian organization (non-human HYDRA with magic sort of) starts. **

**Ljósálfr: Light Elf**

**Dökkálfr: Dark Elf (Malekith's species)**


	2. The Other Side of the Story

"Are you certain?" Hallien asked strongly.

"Yes, my king," the female Ljósálfr before Hallien repeated. "It was blood magic that killed Arlen."

"Can you do it?" Hallien repeated his earlier question. "I need to know now if you can Alyndra."

"Now that Arlen is dead it will be difficult to retrieve his memories," Alyndra thought aloud. "His death was also very traumatic, and traces of the Arcane curse Tilaria used will remain. It will contaminate any memories I can retrieve."

"Is that a yes or a no?" Hallien asked his chief healer sharply.

"I can try," Alyndra promised, "but that's all I can promise."

"Do so then," Hallien ordered in a kingly tone.

Alyndra did not surrender her argument however. "Are you sure about this, my lord?"

"I want to know why Arlen went berserk on Asgard," Hallien said darkly, "but he's dead so I can't just ask him. If you can't retrieve the memories from his body then I'll have to go to Niflheim and ask Hel if I can speak to Arlen. I do not fancy my chances of success in that scenario."

"Very well," Alyndra finally surrendered. "It will take time to retrieve the memories and purify them to the point where they can be viewed on a data crystal."

Hallien nodded, and looked over to Arlen's body. He and Alyndra were in a room that functioned as a morgue of sorts for bodies to be examined, and it was one of the only rooms on Alfheim to be covered in stone tiles.

"There is no way she mastered blood magic to the degree needed to kill Arlen on Asgard," Hallien whispered. "She had to have been taught before she went, by someone here."

"Agreed," Alyndra murmured.

That meant there was someone on Alfheim practicing forbidden magic. Hallien had his suspicions, but he kept them to himself as he walked over to Arlen's body. It was covered by a white silk sheet, and he had not yet had a chance to look at it. Alyndra hesitated when Hallien pulled the sheet over Arlen's face back, but did not stop her king's action.

Arlen's eyes were closed, and the first thought that came to Hallien's mind was that Arlen was sleeping. If it wasn't for the bite marks on his throat, and the fact that his skin was such an unnatural shade of white from being drained of his blood, then it might have been possible. Hallien had heard hundreds of times from Arlen how dangerous blood magic was, and now Arlen he been killed by blood magic. The irony was too cruel for Hallien to swallow.

Hallien felt an odd tightness in his chest as he gazed at his friend's body. He his throat seemed scratchy and his eyes stung. Once when they were children, Arlen had used raspberry juice and a spell to cloak his heartbeat and pretended he was dead. It had been to pay Hallien back for something Hallien had done to him, although Hallien couldn't remember what anymore.

What he did remember about that incident was that he had been so furious with his friend that he hadn't spoken with Arlen for an entire week. Arlen had finally made up to him by raiding a bee's nest and bringing him some fresh honeycomb, and Hallien had forgiven him after that as he always seemed to do. The two had been children then, but Hallien wished very dearly that Arlen was simply pretending again.

Alyndra was wary of the sudden and dangerous silence Hallien had fallen into, so she spoke to fill the silence. "The bite marks on his neck are consistent with a wolf, and since his blood has been drained it is safe to say it was blood magic at work. Eyewitness reports say she used her shadow to kill. That is an arch level spell."

Hallien ignored Alyndra, and carefully brushed a lock of Arlen's hair out of his face. No matter what age they were Arlen had always hated having his hair in his eyes, and once he had even cut his long night black hair to a short and messy bob with his dagger. His mother had not been happy with him as Ljósálfr kept their hair long. Dökkálfr were the ones who wore their hair short, and by cutting his hair he had unintentionally made himself look more like a Dökkálfr.

"Sir? Sir…" Alyndra said when she realized that Hallien had spaced out.

Alyndra's voice drew Hallien from the memory, and he asked tiredly. "Yes, what is it?"

"I said you should kill the half-breed." Alyndra said in a tone that indicated she was repeating herself. "You have tried to raise her as a civilized elf as Anastasia wished, and Arlen paid the price."

Hallien did not respond to Alyndra's comment. In life, Arlen's eyes had been an odd people color that ranged from lavender to amethyst-black depending on how good or bad of a mood he was in. Now that he was dead, the unique color of his eyes had been lost. Arlen was not supposed to die, only Tilaria and Asgard's princes. Why had he struck at Tilaria in person?

"I will think on the matter." Hallien promised softly, and took care to pull the silk blanket back over Arlen's face.

"Think on it?" Alyndra's eyes widened when she realized that Hallien hadn't agreed with her. "Sir, she's already killed one of your council, and she tried to kill you a few hours ago. _Again_! You have to-"

"I have to what, Alyndra?" Hallien snarled as he let some of his anger reveal itself. "Are you giving me orders, healer?"

Alyndra stepped back, realizing that she had pushed Hallien too hard. Despite the fact that Hallien was of royal blood and Arlen a night hair the two had been as close as brothers. His training prevented Hallien from showing his emotions, but it was clear he was in pain from losing Arlen. She wished that he hadn't insisted on seeing Arlen's body, for he might be a bit more stable otherwise.

"No sir," she assured Hallien and lowered her eyes submissively.

"You had best not," Hallien warned with a slight hiss and stalked away from Alyndra and Arlen's body.

He knew that until he got his emotions under control it was dangerous for him to stay so near his people, so he stalked outside and began to walk along the river that ran through the capital. His stalked pace was seen by one of the other Ljósálfr in the city, but Myrin, the Commander of the Ljósálfr's immortal guard, knew it was far too dangerous to get anywhere near his king. Unchallenged, Hallien's route took him downriver to a small tumble of flat grey stones by the riverside.

Hallien stepped onto the stones and sat down on their smooth, sun-warmed surface and laid on his stomach, chin resting on crossed arms like a child. From where he lay, he could look over the edge of the stones and see the clear river. The current was too quick for him to see his reflection, and Hallien supposed that was a good thing. Arlen had dubbed this perch Sunning Stones, and the two of them had spent many a lazy afternoon lounging here as they watched dragonflies dance around the river.

Hallien took the Emerald Crown from his brow and set it beside him. Seeing the crown on the Sunning Stones reminded Hallien of the time Arlen had stolen it. They had been young boys then, and Arlen had noticed how Hallien would look at his father's crown enviously. On a day of rest for the kingdom when even Hallien's father slept, he stole the Emerald Crown from the room and told Hallien to meet him at Sunning Stones.

Hallien had gone, curious as to why he was being summoned. Arlen revealed the theft once he reached the stones, and Hallien had been truly stunned to see Arlen lift the Emerald Crown out of his satchel. He had demanded Arlen to tell him how he'd manage to steal it and then for him to put it back before someone noticed it was gone.

With everyone resting though, no one had noticed the crown was gone. Arlen had managed to talk Hallien into keeping the crown for a few hours, and had unofficially crowned Hallien atop the Sunning Stones. Everything had been going well until the crown had been revealed to be too big. As he was not the true king the crown had not adjusted itself to fit Hallien, so when he had bowed to Arlen the crown had fallen off his head and into the river.

Hallien smiled softly at the memory of the two of them jumping into the river after the crown when the current swept it downstream. There was a waterfall and a nice diving pool ten minutes' walk from the Sunning Stones, and they had been desperate to get the crown before it got swept over the edge.

Hallien had just barely managed to grab the crown before he had fallen over the waterfall. Luckily he had managed to keep ahold of the crown or else it would have been swept even further downriver. The two of them had magically dried themselves off and Hallien had managed to return the crown without anyone being the wiser. It was nothing short of a miracle.

He nudged the Emerald Crown back a little from the river's edge, not eager to repeat that adventure. With a quiet sigh at the sadness those memories brought he lowered his hands into the river caught and then raised them to his lips to take a sip. The river water was cool and sweet, untainted by the capital that it ran through upriver and perfectly safe to drink. Unlike some races, Ljósálfr took care of their home.

The king of Alfheim watched the dragonflies dance across the river's surface and in between a clump of cattails that grew just opposite the Sunning Stones. A shaft of sunlight pierced the canopy overhead, and illuminated motes of pollen that floated in the air. Although it was autumn on the other realms, Alfheim only had the seasons of spring and summer so it went spring, summer, spring, summer in a single year. Alfheim was just entering the second spring of this year. Hallien wished that he was a child again, back when things were simpler.

He sat up on the stones and held out his hand, levitating one of the pebbles out of the water to his palm. It was a good stone for skipping, smooth and almost perfectly round. Arlen and Hallien had long been engaged in a battle to see who could have the most skips, a light humored feud begun over a millennia ago and. Even as adults, they had never dropped the habit of seeing who could get the most skips and last week Arlen had set a new record of twenty-seven skips.

Although he was not in the best position for a throw, Hallien flicked the stone upriver anyway. He counted the skips silently, and with each skip there was a piece of the memory from when his parents had learned Arlen was a night hair.

One… Arlen being lifted off his feet by two Immortal Guard when his glamour had slipped and his true hair color had been revealed.

Two… "Let him go! Let him go this instant!" Hallien shouted at the guards with Arlen. "That is an order from your prince!"

Three… Hallien had been stopped from giving chase after the guards with Arlen by his father's hand on setting itself on his shoulder.

Four… Arlen had been thrown outside of the palace threshold and the gates had closed behind him. He and Arlen had been on opposite sides.

Five… "He has black hair Hallien," his father explained to him softly. "Only those with Dark Elf blood have black hair for we Light Elves have blonde hair."

Six… "I will not have my son fraternizing with a commoner," Hallien's mother had snapped impatiently, "especially a black-haired one with Dark Elf blood!"

Seven… "The only thing Dark Elfin about Arlen is his hair color!" Hallien had shouted back defiantly.

Eight… "That is enough child," his father had warned.

The stone sank after the eight skip, and Hallien was forced to look away from the river. His father, Amras, had not been pleased when he realized his son had befriend a black haired elf for the gene of having black hair came from Dark Elf blood. Amras, ever the conservative, had thought that the black-haired elves should count themselves lucky they were not dead already. After that incident in the palace, his parents had done their best to separate the boys, and Hallien had done his best to make sure it did not work.

Hallien remembered fondly the shock of Alfheim when Hallien had picked his three council members, and the third had been Arlen. Arlen hadn't even had a glamour in place to make his black hair look blonde. Even better was the fact that Hallien had made Arlen his head adviser and second in command.

Arlen had promised him that he would be back on Alfheim before long. Asgard's princes would be dead, and Asgard would be in war. They would have to kill many before Asgard would surrender, but they would eventually have fallen. Instead Arlen was dead and Asgard was secure, and it was because of the halfbreed.

Dökkálfr used the stun setting on their disruptors rarely enough that many people mistakenly believed that they didn't have one, but they did. Tilaria was currently in the dungeons beneath the palace where Hallien had put her, but she was alive. Against his better judgement she was alive, and currently he had no idea what to do with her.

He could kill her for Arlen's murder, but he needed to understand what had happened to make Arlen snap. There was also the fact that she was an arch blood mage to take into consideration. Someone on Alfheim had to have taught her, and she might be able to tell him who. What to do with her?

Hallien glanced down and picked up the Emerald Crown. For the first time since he had been crowned, he wanted to throw it in the river.

* * *

**It's curious, but Hallien doesn't seem like such a villain anymore. I mean, he still wants to kill the princes and kill uncountable Asgardians in a war from supremacy, but he does have his reasons. **


	3. Hidden Jewel

Consciousness returned to Tilaria's senses reluctantly, and once it did she wished it would go away. She was not in her room on Alfheim, but in the dungeons beneath the palace. Her chest was sore as if she'd taken a hit during sparring, but she knew it was more likely a side effect of getting shot. When she tried to move her arms she found that she had a pair of elfin styled restrainer cuffs around her wrists, and the cuffs were locked around a bar sunk into the tan stone wall so she couldn't move.

She sat up slowly in a bid to escape a headache, but it didn't work. Tilaria wasn't sure if it was another side effect from the disruptor or from using her blood magic to augment herself earlier. The worst headaches occurred whenever Tilaria was on the downside of an Arcane rush, and the only way to cure it other than to wait it out was with more Arcane magic.

Asgardian restrainer cuffs separated the mage from their magic, so if you got the cuffs off a mage would only need to wait a few seconds for their magic to return to them before they were battle fit. Ljósálfr cuffs worked differently. They actually drank a mage's own energy and used the lifeforce they stole to power themselves. Even if she got them off she'd still be exhausted from the drain, and it would take a long time for her magic to recover.

"Wonderful," Tilaria sighed deeply and leaned against the wall.

Her cell was small, about nine by nine feet and seven high. The stone floors and roof were perfectly smooth tan sandstone with right corners and not a single window. The only break from the stone was the swirling green energy barrier that covered the fourth wall and served as entrance and exit.

The energy barrier was held in place with four small green crystals outside the cell, one on each corner. Due to the design of the energy barrier it also drew off the lifeforce of its captive to power itself, so Tilaria felt the restrainer cuffs were redundant. If you faced the cell there was a control panel on the right that controlled the forceshield over the exit, and if you could get the control panel off then you could crosswire the cell into deactivating but that trick only worked if you were outside the cell.

No matter how you attempted your escape you did not want to damage the green crystals that stabilized the cell's shielded wall. Only one prisoner had tried that tactic to try and free a friend of their several millennia ago, and they had been the first and the last to do so that way. After that, everyone had decided that they'd just as soon stay in their cells then repeat the fallout from that incident.

Tilaria's sensitive ears pricked up at the sound of booted footsteps, but the steps were too quick and light to be an Immortal Guard. She instantly assumed it was Hallien again, and looked past the energy barrier. The barrier gave her soft green light, and outside the cell the ceiling of the dungeon's hallways were covered in thin vines with crystal flowers. The flowers emitted a gentle, yet bright light colored golden-green. Her visitor drew nearer, and she was surprise to realize that it wasn't Hallien at all.

"Daris?" Tilaria greeted in surprise and tried to stand, though she didn't have much luck.

"Hello Tilaria," Daris greeted with a tired half-smile.

It was refreshing to be called by her real name. Elves considered Æsir inferior, but they at least called her by her real name. Here on Alfheim she was usually just tolerated, but Daris liked her. He was the one who had taught her blood magic among other things better left unknown.

She was surprised to see that her foster parent looked exhausted with his fire red hair uncombed and messy. His sleeveless green and white long coat that Ljósálfr mages wore hung open and sat lopsided on his shoulders with its collar only half turned down. There were shadows under his twilight blue eyes.

"Daris," Tilaria repeated gently when she saw his exhaustion. "You look tired."

Daris clicked his fingers by his side and his hair and clothes fixed themselves magically. "I have been up for the past few days perfecting a new spell to add to my grimoire, and I only just finished. Tilaria, did Hallien truly draw his disruptor on you?"

The worry in his voice warmed Tilaria for she knew Dari's concern was sincere. "Yes, but when did he get a disruptor?"

"A few days ago," Daris shook his head. "He went to Svartalfheim himself, and managed to crosswire the AI in it to accept a Ljósálfr user. That's not the easiest thing to do either, so I have to give him credit for that."

"I'm amazed I'm not dead," Tilaria muttered crossly and tugged at the bar to no avail. "I suppose that means the stories of them really having a stun setting are true."

She pulled her silver lock pick from her bracer and placed it in her right hand. Throughout the centuries she had become more and more adept at unlocking restrainer cuffs. If she could get them off then she would be more comfortable, and the cell itself would still keep her trapped so she shouldn't get any complaints from the Immortal Guard.

Daris noticed what she was trying to do, and shook his head at her normal tactics. "I'm afraid you cannot unlock those, new design."

Tilaria stopped trying and curled her hand around the lock pick with a cross glare, and leaned back against the wall. "Daris, you are a member of Hallien's council so you must know what he's going to do to me for killing Arlen."

Daris sighed softly. "You should know that Hallien's parents were not exactly fit to be called parents. Arlen is the only family Hallien ever had, even if he was a black hair. Besides killing Arlen, you also wrecked his plan to start a war."

"It wasn't me," Tilaria repeated what she had told Hallien. "Arlen attacked me, why does everyone seem to be forgetting that?"

"Hard to say," Daris chuckled softly, but then quieted. "Hallien says you are to be put on trial for charges of murder."

Tilaria snorted in a very un-elfin manner, and Daris raised an eyebrow slightly in surprise. She looked away with a slight blush for acting so ungraceful.

"I suppose I already know what the outcome to it will be," she muttered to herself and tucked the lock pick back into her bracer.

"I am sorry Tilaria." Daris murmured.

Slowly, he lifted his hand to the energy barrier of Tilaria's cell. He almost touched it, but stopped just short of it for he knew that the forceshield would burn anyone who touched it. Not a word was mentioned about blood magic, for Alfheim did not yet know his power and could not know.

"It is not your fault Hallien is a moron and Arlen can't follow orders," Tilaria assured him sarcastically. "I knew the instant Arlen appeared in Asgard's dining hall to try and kill me how this would end for me. Loki and Thor are safe though, so I suppose things went as best they could."

Daris looked at her gently, as the last few sentences Tilaria spoke became softer and quieter. He had spent a lot of time training Tilaria, and it irked him that after all the effort she had put into helping her hone her blood magic that she was going to be executed. If she had gotten out of Arlen's way then he would have forgotten about her and killed the princes. She likely wouldn't be slated for execution then. Why had she saved Odin's sons?

He tilted his head up and sighed unexpectedly. "I am needed elsewhere Tilaria, but I will see you at Hallien's _trial_."

The last word Daris spoke was hissed, and then he turned and walked away. Elves tended to be coldly brisk in the actions and words when interacting with most beings, so Tilaria was not surprised by him. She leaned against the wall to try and get comfortable. Daris had not told her when the trial and her execution were being held, so she would likely have to wait.

* * *

Once Daris left the dungeon he walked along parallel to the palace. Although off-realmers might not believe it, the palace was housed with a single hollowed-out tree. Parts of the palace like the dungeon reached beneath the roots, but other parts spiraled up the trunk of the tree all the way to the upper canopy. The rest of the Ljósálfr capital was housed around the palace, being built into hallow trees or woven into their branches and between trunks so they were nearly invisible.

Daris came across a member of the Immortal Guard with sandy brown hair and dream blue eyes. The Immortal Guard saluted at Daris when he approached, and Daris nodded to him. He held out a hand once the guard neared and set his on his shoulder. His action seemed to surprise the guard, but he did not flinch away as they teleported.

The teleport ended in Daris's quarters, and then Daris lowered his hand.

"Pardon me Rane," Daris addressed the Immortal Guard he had just kidnapped. "I just managed to take my leave from Tilaria. It appears her usefulness is at an end."

Rane hesitated at Daris's ever blunt mannerisms, and wished that he had been a little more subtle then kidnapping him. "Sir, is it safe to be speaking so plainly?"

"Of course," Daris shrugged and turned away at Rane's dubious look. "The Emerald Crown might have similar powers as Gungnir, but it also has the same weak points. We're secure from Hallien's snooping. How is everything going on Svartalfheim?"

"Dangerously," Rane shook his head. "Since Hallien's visit there a few days ago when he found his new disruptor there have been other Ljósálfr as well. Some of them have come very close to finding our jewel we've taken such care to hide."

"We may have to move quicker than intended," Daris said thoughtfully. "If my jewel is found then we will lose the element of surprise. Perhaps we'll have to kill Hallien and Prince Eragon now."

"The jewel's not ready yet. Are supposed to start our attack without it?" Rane asked seriously. "Without it our victory is not assured."

"Perhaps not assured," Daris spoke softly. "But if we're discovered before we strike then we won't succeed in taking over control of Alfheim. We need the element of surprise, and a chance of victory is better than none."

Rane seemed hesitant, but knew that Daris was correct. "If that is your choice then I will accelerate our preparations. What of Tilaria?"

"What of her?" Daris asked with a shrug. "I don't believe she would bring herself to kill Hallien for how badly it would hurt Eragon, and she would never allow harm to come to Eragon. In the end, my training was a waste, and despite her heritage she's of no use. When Hallien executes her then he executes her."

Rane didn't flinch back at Daris's nonchalant shrug. He bowed to Daris instead, and Daris remotely teleported him back to where he had been. It seemed that Hallien's nosiness had accelerated their timetable, but in the end it made no matter to Daris.

Daris would be the one who won this coming conflict, and would gain all the power of the Emerald Crown, a relic tied to Alfheim's very lifeforce. He had to, for he knew Hallien's true name, and he knew that he had to be stopped at any cost before his true self awoke. If that happened and Hallien was still alive, then all the realms would suffer.

"The most dangerous game of all," Daris whispered as he mused to himself.

This was a game of thrones, and in this game you either won or you died.

* * *

**The "hidden jewel" they're talking about is the same one from the chapter title and it could be classified as a super or secret weapon.**

**What does Daris mean when he mentions "Hallien's true name?" I fear that Hallien is not quite what he appears, and Daris might not be the true villain of this story.**

**Hallien's plan to dethrone Odin fell apart because a third party manipulated Arlen into attacking out of place. Now Daris's plan to dethrone Hallien is starting to fall apart because his secret weapon on Svartalfheim is almost found out, and now he has to move before he's ready. This is one of those times when nothing goes according to plan, be it Daris's or Hallien's.**


	4. Loyalist

Rane walked as casually as he could after Daris released him, and sighed. He greeted a few Immortal Guard and they returned it. His manner that surprised some of the Immortal Guard, but they gave no reaction.

Rane was far from the only Ljósálfr who supported Daris, and doing his usual walkabout allowed him to pass on information to his allies. No doubt they were surprised by the knowledge things were going to be moving faster than planned. Most of Daris's followers didn't know the truth about what Hallien was, but Rane did and once you did, it was hard to understand how anyone could be loyal to him.

Viridiel was Alfheim's king before Hallien's father and he had had two sons, Amras and Anar. Amras had a son of his own named Hallien, and a grandson named Eragon while Anar's son was named Daris. Because Amras was the elder of the two, he had become the crown child and the Emerald Crown had passed down his line, leaving Anar with little.

Daris was Anar's son, and grandson of King Viridiel. He and Hallien were cousins, and since Daris was a royal, he was eligible for the crown. As long as Hallien and his son lived then the crown would not respond to Daris, but if they were to die then Daris would be the only royal left.

Daris's father had tried to take control of Alfheim before as well, but his failure had cost him his life. Although he had been successful in orphaning Hallien, Hallien had survived thanks in great part to Arlen. Hallien had become a child king shortly after the incident, no older than twelve years by human time. The only reason Daris had not been executed after that incident was because he had not been aware of his father's plot or taken part in it.

As Rane walked, he spotted another Ljósálfr standing on the tip of one of the palace's branches, uncaring of how high in the air he was. He wore the normal clothing of his kin, but had a pair of peregrine falcon feathers tucked behind his right ear. Rane lowered his head respectively to the elf as he walked by him and passed on Daris's request.

This elf, known as Merrith Lashulson by his kin and Bladewing by his foes, was arguably Alfheim's strongest warrior and something of a champion. Although he was not a powerful mage, he had been born with the extremely rare gift to be able to materialize his soul outside of his body as wings. There were less than a dozen Seraphs, as those who had this ability were named, to have existed in the history of _all nine realms_.

There had been another Seraph on Jötunnheim, but she had been killed five centuries ago near the end of Asgard's war against Jötunnheim. With her death, Merrith was now the only Seraph alive. He was also Rane's second, and third in command of Daris's troops.

Rane walked past Merrith without speaking a word and continued his walkabout, greeting both Hallien's loyalists and his own allies. Once he was back on ground level and outside the palace, he continued his walk, and soon saw a Ljósálfr in the courtyard that he knew. Her name was Kiri, and she was keeping her stance perfect as she worked on Staminata. Rane didn't envy her as he quietly approached her. He knew from experience that Staminata was a singularly annoying technique.

Staminata was a Ljósálfr training technique, and it was the equivalent of movement within meditation. The technique was done by slowly moving from one stance to the next, and if done correctly it took an hour to change between two stances. Moving slowly put a far greater strain on the muscles then moving quickly, so it built up stamina as its name suggested and helped improve balance and awareness of ones flow of lifeforce. There were 24 Staminata "stances" so if done completely it took 24 hours to complete them.

Kiri had one palm extended in front of her, and was busy glaring at it to try to keep her fingers from curling into her palm.

Her concentration didn't seem to be so deep so she chanced to call out, "Your stance is too close."

The voice jolted Kiri from her Staminata induced trance that most went into, and it made her balance waver. One of her legs suddenly cramped, forcing her to drop to her knees with her hands in front to keep from falling completely. Rane tensed his shoulders and walked towards Kiri, wishing that he hadn't spoken.

Kiri pushed herself to her knees and extended the cramped leg with a slight wince, glancing over her shoulder to glare viciously at him. "Rane, do you not know better than to interrupt someone in Staminata?"

"You did not seem that deep in your practice," Rane said by way of apology.

Kiri massaged her leg and debated using the little bit of magic she, that all Ljósálfr, were born with to heal it.

"Æsir," she muttered as she rubbed her leg.

"Hey," Rane chided her in light humor. "There is no need to be so insulting."

He let two of her fingers trail across her calf where the cramp was, and used his magic to heal it. Like Rane himself, Kiri was dressed in sleeveless top similar to a vest and loose-fitting capris. Most elves wore these clothes, both civilians and off duty warriors. Kiri's top came down to her waist but many females had theirs cut to show their midriff.

"Am I forgiven now?" Rane asked Kiri and touched her cheek with a feather light stroke. "I have become used to your company."

Kiri gazed at him as if debating if she should. Unlike other races, Ljósálfr believed their military personnel to be mature enough to manage things, so even though Rane was higher ranking then Kiri no one commented on their relationship. While their relationship was not a secret, no one minded despite the fact that Rane was a Lieutenant, and she was a Sublieutenant. The same didn't apply to the Silver Arrow archers, but they had no real power anymore.

Rane also knew that despite being small in number and power, they were fiercely loyal. Only one Silver Arrow truly served Daris. Unlike the Immortal Guard, healers, or mages Daris did not have enough people among their numbers to ensure control over their faction. It made them dangerous and something akin to a wild card in the coming coup.

"Forgiven," Kiri relented and leaned into his touch.

Rane hummed his satisfaction at her answer, and wished she were loyal to Daris. Kiri was a Traditionalist however, and loyal to Hallien. In the coming coup, she would likely be killed. It was unfortunate but inevitable, and Rane was going to enjoy being with her until she did die.

"I take it you were just doing one of your walkabouts when you saw me and decided to scare me out of my training?" Kiri asked Rane sarcastically and folded the leg that had been cramped under her with her other one.

"Something like that," Rane smiled and relaxed his position. "Have you heard about the halfbreed's latest endeavor?"

"Her attack against Lord Hallien," Kiri nodded softly. "I heard."

"Hallien used his new disruptor to take her down," Rane chuckled and shook his head. "Did you hear of that?"

If Hallien hadn't started poking around Svartalfheim then Daris wouldn't have had to change his plan.

Kiri's ears twitched at her lover's wording. "So the foster halfbreed lives."

"She should not," Rane growled softly. "This is the second time she has fought Hallien with intent to kill. I do not know why he has not disposed of her already."

"Hallien will have his reasons." Kiri tried to assure him, "even if he does not choose to show them."

"He is going to put it on trial." Rane hissed.

"So what?" Kiri shrugged. "After her murder of Arlen I cannot doubt the outcome, although I do not understand why our king cares about a mere _Night Hair_ so much."

Rane sighed to himself silently at Kiri's loyal words, and cringed at the tone when she said the words Night Hair. Her loyalty to Hallien showed no signs of wavering, so when the battle began there was nothing to do but to have her killed alongside Hallien's other loyalists. If he told her what Hallien was then she probably wouldn't be so loyal to him anymore, but he couldn't risk the plan just to sway one Sublieutenant.

"If her guilt is assured then why bother with a trial?" Rane asked sarcastically, trying again to sway Kiri.

"Because all criminals apprehended alive are allowed a trial," Kiri said patiently at how stubbornly predictable Rane was. "It is how things are."

"That hybrid does not deserve it," Rane repeated.

"No," Kiri agreed, "but it is Hallien's decision and he is our king."

"Maybe Hallien should not be king," Rane muttered at his boots in an attempt to test Kiri's limits.

"Rane!" Kiri gasped at his words. "Stop that at once. That is traitor's talk. Hallien is a good king."

If that didn't settle the issue of Kiri then nothing would, so he dropped the matter. It was depressingly clear to Rane there was nothing he could say to break Kiri of her loyalist persona. It would be her death.

Rane looked up at the golden sunlight that filtered through the canopy with a slight green tint. "Does not your next shift start soon?"

Kiri glanced at him and then up at the sun. Rane was right, and she would have to hurry to change out of her civilian garb and report in. She sighed and stood. Rane flicked a hand in a lazy sort of wave, and Kiri took her dismissal to get ready.

Once she left, Rane stood to continue his walkabout and alert more of Daris's sleeper agents to the change in plan. It was too bad that loyal little Kiri was such a model soldier. He walked off in the opposite direction.

* * *

Kiri walked briskly to the barracks where her gear was, wishing that Rane wasn't such an idiot. Hallien was their king, and yet Rane treated him like a pest half the time. Hallien was their king, and it was their job not just as Immortal Guard but also as citizens of Alfheim to follow his orders.

What would become of Alfheim if the king could not depend on his people? She was not looking where she was going, one hand trying to strangle the hilt of her saber as she was lost in her stormy thoughts, and when she turned another corner and ran into something. The object stumbled backwards and fell onto his back with a noise of surprise.

Kiri looked down, expecting a servant's child. She choked back her words of retaliation when she realized that of all the children to run into, she had ended up knocking prince Eragon off his feet. Her young prince sat up warily, and rubbed his head.

"Ow," he muttered to himself. "I was not expecting that.

"M-My Prince!" Kiri stuttered, able to feel the tips of her ears turning red from embarrassment. "Forgive me, for I did not notice your presence."

Instinctively she bowed low at the waist with an arm crossing her chest in a salute. She did not kneel however deep her bow was, for she was no Æsir. Would Eragon force her to kneel?

"You may stand." Eragon told her, surprising Kiri.

She hesitantly raised her eyes from the floor to her young prince. He was still sitting on the forest floor, but he was smiling as if he didn't mind. Kiri held out a hand after a moment, and helped her prince to his feet when he took it. Eragon tipped his head slightly in thanks, and Kiri's ears turned so red that the color crept onto her cheeks this time as well.

"I should be more aware of my surroundings," the child smiled softly. "If I had been then I would ended up on the floor."

Kiri was amazed at how forgiving and casual Eragon was. Most Ljósálfr were distant creatures who kept their emotions separate from their logic and their normal tasks of the day. Eragon did not do that very much however, and was simply a kind child. Thankfully, he was not naïve, and he would make a wonderful king one day despite currently being less than four centuries old.

"Have you seen Tilly-ah Tilaria?" Eragon asked Kiri, accidentally using his pet name for his foster sister and then correcting himself.

Eragon had not been happy when she had been allowed to go to Asgard with Uncle Arlen while he had to remain behind, but he knew she was back. He also knew about Arlen's death and Tilaria's fight with Hallien. No doubt she was in the dungeon, but he did not know where. That didn't faze Eragon as she was often in the dungeon, and he just wanted to see her again.

Kiri was not expecting that question, so Eragon tried a different one.

"I know about Arlen and her fight with father," Eragon said seriously. "Is she in the dungeon?"

Kiri was unsure how to respond still, for it was obvious that Eragon had not yet learned that Tilaria would soon be executed. In some ways the boy before her, only nine years old by human time, was very much a child.

"I presume she is," Kiri said carefully, "but I do not know for certain where in the dungeons."

She knew that Eragon had spent the night sleeping outside of Tilaria's cell before, and did not want to send him down there to do so again. It would only irritate Hallien to find Eragon sleeping in the dungeon.

Eragon looked frustrated by her response, but not altogether surprised. Ljósálfr did not shelter their children from the truth as other races did, but Hallien had still tried to keep the news from Eragon. He looked away, frustrated but not very surprised.

"Then how about my father?" Eragon asked briskly, sounding like a prince suddenly instead of a child looking for his sister. "Where is he?"

"I do not have the faintest idea," Kiri said helplessly. "Perhaps one of the other children will have seen him."

Eragon nodded, "I suppose that is the next logical step. Thank you Sublieutenant."

Kiri bowed to him again as he went off in another direction to try to find some of his friends, steps light and quiet on the detritus-strewn floor of the forest. She was surprised that Eragon would know her rank, but she raised her hand to her left shoulder when she remembered that she was still wearing her rank pins despite being in civilian clothes.

Eragon was certainly an observant child, but he had poor taste to be loyal to a half-breed. Word was also spreading that she used blood magic, and to use it she had to have been taught it. She could not have reached her level of mastery on Asgard, so there was a Ljósálfr practicing forbidden magic. It would be in her prince's best interest to forget about Tilaria, but she knew he would never do that.

Kiri knew that Eragon was going to be hurt very badly by Tilaria's fate, and that saddened her. Eragon's mother, Queen Anastasia, had died a few days after Eragon's birth and he had no memories of her. His family had always been Tilaria and Hallien, and soon his family would shrink once more.

She might not be able to protect Eragon from losing his sister, but she would never let any harm come to him.

* * *

**Kiri is mostly a foil for Rane and Eragon. Her importance will increase as the story continues, but no overly so. Rane, Daris, and Hallien's casual dismissal of life is not uncommon. In fact, the vast amount of Ljósálfr are like them. Eragon's gentle nature is the unusual one. They are aliens with a very different psyche then us humans, do not think they are human.**

**Alfheim is a very alien realm to us humans, and since i haven't heard any information about it in Norse mythology or Marvel i have to use all OC's. Asgardians won't be showing up in this story because the fact that they _don't know what happened_ is part of the plot. They aren't supposed to know, so although Asgard's princes will be in the next story, they aren't in this one directly.**


	5. Death March

Her arms were cramping, just like her legs, neck, back, and most of her body. It was truly starting to annoy Tilaria and making it hard to sleep. She was still trapped in the sitting position by the wall, unable to stand or walk around. The position was starting to affect her body, but Tilaria supposed she should be grateful she hadn't been muzzled.

If she had been keeping track of time correctly then two days had passed since Daris's visit, and in those two days she had received neither food nor drink. She wished Daris would come back and visit her again. Hel, at this point she wished Hallien's "trial" would happen because at least then she'd be able to stand.

Her stomach growled its complaints, unhappy at being empty. Tilaria didn't even try to shush it, knowing it would be a waste of time. Humans could only last three days without water, or three weeks without food. Æsir could last much longer, and elves longer than even them because Ljósálfr had some degree of photosynthetic capability.

The longest she had gone like this was eight days although then she hadn't been cuffed to the wall. She, like Hallien, had been surprised to find Eragon sleeping outside the energy barrier of her cell, using a green-white cloak as a blanket and pillow. After that incident, Hallien had let her out of the cell because he hadn't wanted Eragon to spend another night in the dungeons.

Hallien and the rest of the Ljósálfr were trying their best to separate her and Eragon. She was a mixed blood, and amazingly lucky she hadn't been killed or left to die for that as a babe. Eragon had his own opinions and views instead of just copying the common ones and he was even more stubborn then Hallien when it came to staying true to them. He and Daris were the only people on Alfheim Tilaria knew she could trust.

She stretched her legs to try and get the blood flowing again. Tilaria knew Eragon would be trying to find her, and she hoped that his efforts would not get him in trouble as they so often did. This time in the cell should be used for her to think on her actions, but Tilaria didn't regret killing Arlen. By doing so, she had stopped Hallien's plans to start a war and saved Odin's son. Although she still didn't understand why Arlen had strayed so far from Hallien's plot as to try and personally kill her he had, and ironically enough that was the best thing that could have happened.

Footsteps walked softly down the hall by her cell, and Tilaria could tell from the fact that they were in step with each other that it was not Daris or Eragon. Her guess was soon proven correct as two Immortal Guard walked down the hallway, carrying a black-haired elfin boy between them. The boy was unconscious, and if the trail of dried blood that ran down his temple was any indication he was injured.

There was a hum as the cell's green energy barrier to her right activated, and the Immortal Guard walked past her cell shortly afterwards to resume their rounds. Tilaria assumed correctly that the black-haired boy had been thrown in there. She wasn't surprised to see him in the dungeon since he had black hair.

The trait of having black hair was unfortunately a dominant in the Ljósálfr, and one taken very seriously. Having black hair was the most common color for a Dökkálfar, and the Ljósálfr saw their black-haired kin as having Dökkálfar blood. It made black-haired elves be treated as third-class citizens.

There was no sound from the cell, so she assumed the Night Hair was unconscious and went back to trying to unlock her restrainer cuffs. After about ten minutes she heard a zap nose to her right, and someone shout in surprise and curse. She wrapped her hand around her lockpick and shook her head. It appeared that her inmate had awoken and tried to touch the energy barrier across his cell.

"I would suggest keeping your hands away from it," Tilaria called out a friendly warning to the boy.

"Says who?" The boy challenged back.

"Someone who has been locked in a cell more than once," Tilaria responded without revealing her name.

The boy backed away from the energy barrier after glaring at it a few seconds and sat down with his back against the wall, so he and Tilaria were back to back with only the cell wall between them. "Name's Micha, you?"

Tilaria hummed, but still didn't say her name. She had earned something of a reputation around Alfheim, and she didn't want him to know her name. Some considered Halflings to be below Night Hairs, and some saw Night Hairs as inferior to Halflings. As a Night Hair he probably considered a Halfling like her to be the inferior one, and it was obvious he was a Night Hair from the fact that he had used a conjunction.

Micha seemed to realize that his temporary companion wasn't going to say her name, so he kept talking. "Those blondes are ridiculous."

Tilaria knew that Micha was assuming that she was also a Night Hair because she was in the lower cells. Usually blondes, Elves with the culturally accepted blonde or rare red hair, were in the higher level cells. She didn't take offense even though she was a blonde. Halfling was her title, not blonde.

"Agreed," Tilaria mused with a dark chuckle at Micha's understatement. "Why are you here? Did you steal some poor nobles' scraps?"

Micha smiled softly despite himself. "Nah, I dared meet the eyes of Milady Galia."

Tilaria winced sympathetically although she knew Micha couldn't see her. Hallien had three council members, Arlen, Daris, and Galia. Daris and Galia were polar opposites when it came to many things, but you did not want to earn Galia's ire. It was even worse for those like Tilaria who were a mixed blood, or if you were a Night Hair. Some were more lenient towards Night Hairs then others, and Galia was part of the conservative _other_ faction.

"Did she order the Guards to strike you down?" Tilaria asked mockingly, knowing she was probably right.

"More or less," Micha agreed. "Those blondes forget though that we night hairs know how to fight an we don't care if its proper or it ain't."

Tilaria winced again, this time at the grammar. Noble children and even common elves were raised to speak properly but she didn't say anything, least her distraction fall quiet.

"You never told me who you 'ere." Micha pressed, his curiosity intensifying.

The girl used contractions but he was sure that her accent was from a palace raised noble. That meant she was likely a blonde, so if she was a blonde then why was she in the lower cells? Was she a legitimate criminal?

"Long story." Tialria sighed, opening her palm to see the lock pick sparkle.

"I ain't goin' nowhere," Micha promised with a sideways glare at his cell's energy field.

Tilaria was about to say something when she heard footsteps approaching. From the way they were walking it was Immortal Guards, and three of them if she wasn't mistaken. She fell quiet, but Micha didn't.

"Well?" Micha repeated.

Tilaria would agree that he was stubborn but didn't he hear the Immortal Guards approaching? She shushed him sharply and curled her right hand around her lockpick. There wasn't enough time for her to slip it into her bracer again. Micha was going to snap at her for being shushed when he finally paid enough attention to his surroundings to notice the approaching steps, and quieted as well.

Just as Tilaria thought, there were three Immortal Guard approaching. Three guards walked into sight. Tilaria was a little surprised to see them stop in front of her cell and dissipate the energy field. One of the three walked inside to retrieve her while the other two stood outside. Was Hallien's stupid trial going to happen now? It was about time. She was getting tired of waiting for her execution.

A thought crossed her mind that the Immortal Guard walking towards her would have to remove the restrainer cuffs in order to free her wrists so she could walk. She readied for a strike, and so was disappointed when the Guard put his hand on her cuffs and pulled them right through the ball in the wall. The bar in the wall returned from a liquid state to solid metal. There were time when Tilaria really hated magic.

A little moody by her thwarted escape, she stood as the Guard stepped out of the cell to the other two and waited for her silently. Her legs gave with the first step, and she fell to her hands and knees. She took a step to contain her frustration and grimly stood again, refusing to look weak. Now her body began to realize that it had to work again and Tilaria was able to slowly walk to the entrance and step down to the hallway.

The crystal flowers from the vines illuminated the halls in place of the green energy-barrier, and she glanced at her opponents to apprise her chances. Despite what Hallien thought, she had no intention of dying today. She would make her move once she was safely out of the dungeon, and tightened her fingers around the lockpick in her hand.

Micha stood and walked as close to the energy field as he could to try and get a view of what was happening. The girl he had been talking to was suddenly escorted in front of his cell on her way out of the dungeon. He stared in shock when he saw her golden-blonde hair instead of black as he expected.

Tilaria did not look at Micha as she calmly walked by his cell, or respond to his stunned stare. Only Night Hairs were thrown into the lower cells without cause. If she was a blonde then… she was an actual criminal?

Tilaria thought of her escape in more detail as she was marched by the Immortal Guard to her execution. She had managed to get out of cells and restrainer cuffs before, and she only needed to do so one more time. It saddened her that when she escaped this time she could never return to the palace or to Eragon again, but Hallien was giving her no choice.

One more escape, and then she was gone for good.

* * *

D

**A death march is a forced march of prisoners of war or other captives or deportees with the intent to kill, brutalize, weaken and/or demoralize as many of the captives as possible along the way. Tilaria is being escorted to a trial she knows will end in her execution, so I suppose they're similar only she's not demoralized. ****Tilaria wants to go and be gone for good, but I think Daris is going to add her plan to the ever-growing list of plans that have simply not worked.**

**It's ironic how surprised Micha was to see a blonde elf n the lower cells. She's an actual prisoner instead of just a Night Hair thrown in there unjustly, how rare... yeah, it's rare unfortunately. **


	6. Trial

Hallien's trial was a mockery as both Tilaria and Hallien knew of the outcome. Tilaria had killed Arlen to save Asgard's princes and stop Hallien's plan to start a war and dethrone Asgard, but she was still the one getting executed. The unjust irony was sad, although not unexpected considering the circumstances.

Galia curled her lip slightly as she sat and waited for his appearance. It was obvious this was a waste of time, and they ought to just kill the halfbreed now. She drummed her fingernails on the desk impatiently waiting to get this over with. There wasn't very much of an audience present, but what few who were here had already arrived.

Like most of those present Galia wore a green silk tunic, sleeveless and cut to show her midriff, and capris also made of green silk. In addition the normal attire, she had a pair pf detached sleeves made of a sheer fabric that came to her wrist. It was common enough for a female to wear them.

The detached sleeves were held in place by a pair of copper armbands that were engraved with a pattern of leafy vines. Her right armband, the flashpiece that she stored her magic in, had clear quartz crystals overlaying the leaves. Those crystals had been dyed from clear to the same mint green color of her magic due to the amount of her magic she had stored in them.

Hallien's seat was just above hers, and to her right was Arlen's empty seat and Daris's beyond that. Daris looked as bored as she did, and idly traced the white threading on his sleeveless tunic that he wore under the greatcoat. He did not meet Galia's glance as usual.

Even to this day Galia could not understand why Hallien had chosen Arlen, one of those Dökkálfr descended things to sit on his council, let alone to be his second in command. She could almost laugh as she imagined the situation that might arise should Arlen had ever needed to take command as Regent of Alfheim. Luckily that had never happened.

Hallien was a little soft in his mind in more ways than one. The mate of the ruler of Alfheim was not decided by the ruler. It was decided by the people to ensure that the line of Alfheim's royal family remained pure. Galia was supposed to have been Hallien's mate, but Hallien had sidestepped tradition yet again by choosing Galia's younger sister Anastasia. Anastasia was a cripple, not genetically crippled no, but her right hand had rendered useless when she had been at the wrong place at the wrong time and a curse went wild. It was foolish for someone crippled like Anastasia to become Alfheim's queen.

Galia sighed and laid her hand flat in front of her to stop drumming her fingers. She was the leader of a strong but firm faction that advocated at eliminating the "contaminants" from Alfheim's genetic pool. Such things included Night Hairs, halfbreeds, and those who would intermarry with them to further dilute the Ljosalfr's purity. It would exterminate anywhere from ¼ to ½ of Alfheim's population, but Alfheim was a planet of life so it would recover quickly enough and be better for it.

Hallien had never given her any lead or right to exercise her plan, which annoyed Galia as much Anastasia becoming his mate, and Daris and Arlen always sided with Hallien. She had never stood a chance before, but suddenly she did. If she could get one of her allies into Arlen's position then she might be able to pass a few laws through to at least separate the contaminants from the general population. Once she started then it should be easy for her to continue.

Daris wanted to lessen the effects Night Hairs, Halflings, and others like them were up against and increase equality. If he got one of his followers into Arlen's seat then Galia's task would become even more impossible. What Galia didn't know was of Daris's plot to get the power he needed by force. Once he became Alfheim's king then one of the things he would do was to give the power back to all of Alfheim's people, but doing so meant he would have to kill his cousin and nephew first.

Out of nowhere, Hallien appeared and sat in his seat. Daris had finally returned Galia's glare and they silently fought over Arlen's seat, not even noticing that Hallien had arrived. Hallien was certain he knew exactly what the two of them were fighting over, and he wished Arlen was here. Arlen would get the two of them to shut up and behave.

"Bring her in," Hallien ordered, the Emerald Crown heavy on his brow.

Hallien's words surprised both Galia and Daris since they did not know he was present, but they straightened and looked towards the doors as they opened. Light vines, their crystal flowers emitting gold-green light, wove around the room from the walls to the tables and even up to the rafters, encompassing the room in a sphere of light from all direction so there were no shadows. The soft yet bright light reflected off the dark gray copper-highlighted metal of the Immortal Guard's armor as they walked in.

Hallien wasn't sure why, but he felt suddenly irked to see only Immortal Guard. The Immortal Guard were Alfheim's version of Asgard's Star Guard, and by using them it was almost like they were copying Asgard instead of playing to their strengths by using the Silver Arrows. Perhaps it was time to start restoring the Silver Arrows to their proper place as Alfheim's vanguard and defender.

One Immortal Guard led, and two walked behind him in a triangle formation. Tilaria was in the middle, and in the situation she looked her young age. Her weapons were gone, and the restrainer cuffs she wore had been upgraded so she couldn't unlock them and access her magic. Without magic or blades, Galia didn't believe there was anything she could do. Daris knew better, and was curious to see if she could survive this and be of further use.

Despite knowing that she was charged of murder and she would be found guilty she walked with her head held high and her shoulders straight. Her step was light and sure and she excluded an aura of calm and confidence. For certain, if nothing else the girl was royal.

"Tilaria," another elf on the ground began. "You are charged with the murder of Councilor Arlen Vanderson and-"

Tilaria took a breath and whistled. It was a very loud and shrill whistle that made the collective elves jump and left their ears ringing. Elves had very sensitive hearing. Daris actually showed a sign of discomfort by rubbing his ears and muttering "ow" softly.

"A little Æsir trick," Tilaria explained with a smile. "It's called whistling."

Hallien frowned, wary of her confident she was. Tilaria took a mental breath, aware that she would have just one chance to do this. Daris had always stressed her usage of the Arcane, so she figured this should please him.

Her smile, when she smiled, was more baring her canines sharpened into fangs by use of blood magic. "So… How about we skip this?"

She waved her cuffed hands at the gathered elves. Hallien tilted his head to one side but did not interrupt. He was curious, and still on guard as to what the fel she was doing.

"I am charged with murder and knowing you also conspiracy and treachery." She ticked off the points on her left fingers, her right hand at an odd angle. "And I am going to assume that Alyndra knows her job and has already figured out exactly how I killed your precious Arlen."

Her voice was harsher then she meant it to be when she poke the last sentence, but she could already feel the rush of blood magic coloring her vision and clouding her mind with its deliciously metallic scent. A drop of blood fell from her right hand to the floor of woven branches, and Hallien saw a few more dark drops fall. He slowly raised his eyes to Tilaria's smile, fear snaking into his chest.

"I killed Arlen with blood magic," Tilaria announced bluntly, "sort of like this."

The Guards turned towards her at her words and Hallien saw her open her right hand. Her silver lock pick that she had cut her hand with pinged to the ground, sounding like crystal or falling glass. It was covered in blood, just like her palm.

Daris almost smiled triumphantly, but remembered not to as Alfheim couldn't afford to learn he was a blood mage yet. He was satisfied however, glad that she had turned to blood magic so quickly. If she could escape here alive then perhaps she would be of further use to him and his plans after all.

One Guard tried to grab her restrainer cuffs to activate them and render her unconscious, but Tilaria was too fast. Drawing on the power of blood magic, feeling the overwhelming rush that came from the use of it, Tilaria let herself get swept away in the power and her moral inhibitions slip away. You could not have morals when using blood magic.

She placed her hand on his chest as she danced around him, and red glowed as her concussive blood hex flung the guard back like a rag doll. Tilaria could hear his bones breaking, and his choked breath as every bone in his body fractured into shards from the force of the blow. It was a rush to her that made her smile as the guard died.

One of the elves screamed, Galia realized. Then realized she had been the one to scream. Tilaria had killed an elf just like that and she was not done yet.

The second Guard swung his blade, but Tilaria caught it on the impervious metal of her restrainer cuffs, feeling the swords enchantments slice through the hexes on the cuffs designed to suppress her magic. He took another swing but Tilaria caught the edge of the blade on the back of a hand. Smiling, she jumped slightly into the air and brought a foot down on the Mythril blade, snapping it in two. She was so much stronger now. Another concussive hex sent him sliding off his feet.

Too much, too much, too much! Galia's mind shouted at itself. She stood and fled, the rest of the gathered elves take their cue from her, choking on the bitter iron taste of blood magic. Hallien stood, but realized he couldn't move anymore. The pure power of blood magic weighed down on his limbs, purring as it echoed within his soul.

Just as Tilaria's fuchsia irises became blood red, so did the red reflect in both Hallien and Daris's eyes. Daris thrilled in the rush however while Hallien recoiled in horror. Not here, he had to stay under control here!

Tilaria ducked a swing from the third and tapped her bloody hand on his chest as she dodged his blade. She bared her fangs in triumph and curled her bloody fingers closer to her palm as she hopped back, almost waving something to come, come. The last Guard was suddenly paralyzed from her touch, and Tilaria tilted her head in an almost curious manner. Then she tightened her hand and made a sharp, jerking move toward her chest.

Hallien ducked his head at the Guard's scream and at the most terrible chocked noise. Swirls of blood poured from his skin, eyes, nose, ears, and mouth as his life slipped away. The blood tore through his body, curling around Tilaria. Once the last bits of blood were drained Tilaria relaxed her hand and the elves body fell to the ground. The blood now swirled protectively around her.

Tilaria slowly looked up at the remaining Guard. Her pink eyes were red-black, the unnatural color spilling past the rim of her iris and the black of the pupil. To his credit, the Guardsman stood his ground, even with his broken sword trembling slightly. He was terrified, but the blood tasted sweeter when filled with fear.

Hallien tried desperately to move but the magic was too strong. There was nothing he could do thanks to his affinity without tapping into blood magic himself, and that he would not do again. He glanced at Daris, knowing that she would have to be an arch blood mage to manage something of this degree. Daris stood there, either frozen or in shock as he was. Only a blood mage would be paralyzed by the blood at this point, and Hallien drew his lips from his artificially sharpened canines when he realized who Tilaria's mentor was.

The doors slammed open, revealing more Immortal Guard. Hallien wanted to shout at them "no, stay back," but could not. Only blood could stop blood now, and Tilaria would simply feed off their blood. The girl tilted her head to one side, looking more animal then human, still handcuffed.

This was bad, Hallien thought, trying to twist his hand to materialize his disruptor. The Dökkálfr loved blood magic, so their disruptor would not be stopped by the blood like any other magic would. Suns, he needed to act quickly. Maybe he could do something, Hallien thought and bit down on his lip until a drop of blood ran down his chin.

The Guard shouted no idiotic war cries as Æsir often did and simply ran forward. Tilaria raised her hand, her golden hair half-hiding her face. She looked no more like a creature then now. A ripple of blood responded and raced out like a shockwave. When it hit the first few Guards, the Guards were lifted into the air, shrieking. Their flesh was torn form their bodies, dissolving into a combination of energy and blood and all that clattered to the ground was armor, clothes, and bones.

The Guards behind them skidded to a stop, staring. A visual nexus of energy had surrounded the girl, and the Guards stopped outside the killing line. Lieutenant Rane was one of the Guards left staring at the Halfling, trying not to cough up his lunch from the smell of eviscerated flesh. He threw his sword but when it hit the nexus, it shattered, sending bits of metal flying back to the Guards.

A kill aura, Hallien thought as he closed his eyes to draw off the blood, expanded beyond her skin to encompass a large area. As Hallien started to let the iron-tanged magic snake into his soul for a spell, he was suddenly locked in place by a memory.

_He was a child, with Arlen, Anastasia, and his other friend Myrin. The four of them had infiltrated Anar's base shortly after he had killed Amras and tried to make himself king in his place. Hallien was holding the Emerald Crown in his hands, desperate to keep it from his uncle by any means possible, and so as ever he fell back on his blood. _

_How the crown's purring song that sounded like the rustle of leaves and murmur of brooks twisted to a lament by Hallien's careless action. The forest around him had lost their leaves, and withered branches had fallen. Animals died where they stood, and the pain he had caused Arlen and the others still made his hands shake._

No, Hallien thought and released his blood. He had not used his blood magic since that day, and could not. It would corrupt the Emerald Crown and turn its melody into a funeral dirge, and since it was connected to Alfheim's lifeforce it would only kill the realm again. As king the Emerald Crown would respond to his magic even if he was not wearing it, so he could not use his blood magic without corrupting Alfheim's lifeforce as well.

The nexus around Tilaria wavered, and Hallien realized gratefully that expanding the kill aura had taken too much from her. That was the problem with using blood magic, you needed a steady supply of blood to keep casting. Tilaria seemed to sense that her rampage was coming to a close so she threw another concussion hex that temporarily cleared the field of opponents.

Then she raised the restrainer cuffs that bound her wrists, and the blood in the air absorbed into the restrainer cuffs through the crack that had been made by the sword strike in visible tendrils. The air cleared visibly, and the crack grew as Tilaria charged the blood magic within the restrainer cuffs.

The cuffs exploded without warning, sending bits of metal everywhere. Tilaria lowered her freed hands with a smile. She had overloaded her cuffs in the most extreme degree, Daris noted casually. Not the most graceful technique but blood magic specialized in blunt strength, like a hammer instead of a scalpel.

Hallien knew he had only a brief respite before Tilaria killed more guards to feed her blood, so he managed to make the disruptor materialize in the air and fall into his palm. He tightened his fingers around the grip as he had practiced to do and changed the setting as he raised the disruptor. It was no longer set on stun as it had been before.

"Die," Hallien hissed and pulled the trigger.

The bolt of electrified plasma flew through the air and Tilaria turned at the sound of the shot, her movement just a little too slow. More blood splattered to the ground, and Hallien smiled as Tilaria stumbled back. He wasn't quite used to the disruptor yet, and it seemed he had missed a kill.

She could not feel pain so deep in the blood's rush, but some part of her knew that something had just happened to her left shoulder. Tilaria didn't know what, but she didn't like it. Hallien shot again, sure he would get a kill this time, and Tilaria tried to flick her left hand. Her hand didn't respond, so she snapped up her right hand and threw up a defensive ward.

Hallien smiled victoriously when she did that, for he knew the special ability of a disruptor and why they were such feared weapons against the mages. When a disruptor shot hit a magical ward it would instantly shatter the ward inward, towards the mage to harm or sometimes kill them. Tilaria had just raised one of those wards.

The disruptor worked like it was supposed to, and Tilaria's ward shattered towards her. He could tell that she didn't comprehend what was happening as she fell backwards and crashed to the floor. Hallien lowered his disruptor a few degrees so the barrel faced down, certain that he had her under control now. Although he was planning to face Daris about being affected by the blood magic he was stopped when Tilaria grabbed the half of the sword she had broken earlier, wrapping her fingers tightly around the saber's sharp edge that small rivulets of blood ran down it.

She focused, and suddenly the shard went flying through the air. Hallien glanced back just as the shard hit the forearm that had the disruptor in it. He dropped the disruptor and grabbed the injured arm, staring at the metal sword piece that was embedded in his arm.

His magic instantly reacted to try and heal the damage to his arm, but because of all the blood his blood magic came to life. Hallien knew in panic that it was not good. The blood would hurt the crown, and Alfheim would suffer. There was nothing for him to do other than lower his eyes from Tilaria, and shut down his magic before that happened.

Daris watched in slack-jawed shock as the Emerald Crown began to change. The maple leaves made of emerald that linked together to form the Emerald Crown's circular band began to turn red and whiter. Delicate golden vines wove the leaves together, only it became an eerie silver-black and took on an appearance similar to thorny briars. On his brow was the jewel of the crown, a stylized sun made of amber and topaz. It lost its shine and glow, and turned dull and black. Hairline fractures spread along the sun and the rest of the leaves.

Hallien dropped to his knees, and the Emerald Crown fell from his brow to the ground with a crystalline ringing. Daris thought about snatching up the crown right here and slaying Hallien early since he knew it could be blamed on Tilaria, but his plan was thwarted by the rest of the Immortal Guard Tilaria had stunned starting to stand. Tilaria was long gone, but they were here.

Slowly, surely, Hallien's breathing leveled and he got his blood magic under control. The Emerald Crown began to fade back to its old self safely, and without warning Hallien collapsed. Daris wasn't sure what to do about Hallien's collapse but the guards made it clear that he wasn't going to be killing his cousin anytime soon.

"Guards!" He shouted to them. "Tilaria has injured King Hallien. He needs to be taken to Alyndra now."

The Guards came and were stunned to see Hallien lying on the ground, and quickly picked him up. By now the Emerald Crown had returned to its normal state. Daris was amazed at Hallien's control and reserve as those were two things blood mages did not have. Although he was loathe to do so, Daris set the Emerald Crown on Hallien's chest and made a shooing motion to the Immortal Guard to go already.

He let them leave with Hallien's limp form and the Emerald Crown because after all, Hallien would soon be dead and Daris would regain the crown. With or without Tilaria's help. Crow had been right, Daris thought as he walked down the steps top floor level where the bodies were. He was right about Hallien, and that meant that what Daris was doing was the morally right thing to do. Hallien needed to die.

* * *

**Who all saw Hallien being a blood mage coming? The Emerald Crown is tied to Alfheim like the Casket is to Jotunnheim, so it has to stay pure. Blood magic is about the opposite of purity which is why he can't use it. Whatever Crow told Daris about Hallien must have been interesting to have turned the cousins against each other, so what is Hallien's true name?**

**Do you remember how in chapter two Hallien was thinking about Arlen. He mentioned that he had heard hundreds of times from Arlen how dangerous blood magic was. This is why Arlen was saying that to him. ****Before Hallien became king when he could still freely use his blood he used it a lot, way too much actually. ****Although he's broken the habit _now_ he's very different when he's younger. ****The story of Anar's fall might be worth writing for a spin-off... hmm...**


	7. Sibling Love

It had taken Eragon forever to find Livia and her twin brother Lydis, two elfin children his own age. Elfin children were rare, and those who had children rarely had more than one. Many families had no children at all, so each was prized beyond compare. The scarcity of children was a weakness the Ljósálfr had bred in when they had bred others out.

The twins had told Eragon about the trial, and even as they were telling him about it a Silver Arrow appeared before them urgently.

"Prince Eragon!" The Silver Arrow called out in exhaustion.

His bow was collapsed from its full size into itself and clipped onto his left side, straight as a sword's hilt and no longer than one. As a Silver Arrow's bow he could materialize his own arrow, and so had no use for a quiver of arrows to lug around. The Silver Arrow looked exhausted as if he had run the whole way there, and Eragon realized he probably had.

"Your father has collapsed," the Silver Arrow managed to say breathlessly.

"What?" Eragon straightened. "How? Did it happen during Tilaria's trial? Father should know better than to try her patience by now."

"She tried to kill him, again," the Silver Arrow rolled his eyes. "He is been injured and he has not regained consciousness."

Eragon's amused smile at Tilaria's antics faltered and faded, and he lowered his head. "Oh. They've fought and bickered, but they've never seriously tried to hurt each other before."

Eragon dug his fingernails into the dove gray leather of the bracer he wore on his right arm. He didn't have a bracer on his left arm. The bracer on his right arm had shards and lines of metal embedded into it so he could mount his favorite weapon onto it, a wristbow. Right now he didn't have his wristbow, and was armed with only a dagger.

"Where is father?" Eragon asked the Silver Arrow softly.

"He is with Alyndra," the Silver Arrow promised, "but I don't believe she'll let you see him. He is all right however. Daris acted quickly to help him."

"Uncle Daris did that," Eragon whispered again with a soft smile.

He was glad at least part of his family was getting along. Eragon tightened his grip on his bracer where his wristbow was supposed to be at the thought. The Silver Arrow realized that Eragon didn't have his wristbow suddenly, although he couldn't be too surprised since Eragon never wore it.

"Prince Eragon," the Silver Arrow said in concern. "Are you sure it is safe for you to walking around unarmed with Tilaria on the loose?"

Eragon raised his head at the words and smiled. "There are many things I don't know, but I know that Tilaria will never hurt me. She is family."

"Eragon," Lydis warned softly, but Eragon looked away from him and his action made Livia's voice fall quiet before she spoke.

"Prince Eragon," the Silver Arrow said seriously. "Tilaria killed many Immortal Guard when she escaped."

Eragon jerked his head up, startled to hear that. "Killed? But she has never killed before."

This Silver Arrow had not been present during Tilaria's attack, but he had seen the aftermath and wished feverishly he could forget it. The body that Tilaria had slammed against the wall had broken every bone, and it was the only one of the seven that looked like an actual body. There were five skeletons with armor and clothing as well, and the seventh.

The seventh had been reduced to a pile of eviscerated flesh in Tilaria's quest to get every drop of his blood. The flesh that was left was white as snow – or so he assumed as like most Ljósálfr the Silver Arrow had never seen snow. It looked far more like a pile of raw meat with a skeleton partially sticking out of it. He had tried not to gag on the smell from the seventh body with only moderate success before having to beat a hasty retreat.

The Silver Arrow didn't say anything about that as Eragon looked down again, and tried to grasp what had just been said. Tilaria had killed someone? She couldn't, wouldn't kill because she wasn't bad.

"Is that all?" Eragon asked in a voice that trembled against his will.

The Silver Arrow felt protective of Eragon instinctively, just like Kiri and most of Alfheim did. His views on his sister had always been childishly innocent, and now he was starting to see his sister's true form. There was no doubt that he would be hurting for some time to come.

"There is no sign of Tilaria," the Silver Arrow finished, "although Hallien managed to shoot her with his disruptor. It was a glancing blow, and not enough to escape although since it was set to kill she has been injured."

Hallien shot Tilaria with his disruptor? He used the kill setting on her? She was injured? His sister had killed and Hallien had tried to hurt her? Eragon couldn't believe the Silver Arrow's words, but the messenger's aura was pure from the truth he spoke.

Eragon had been sitting on the floor with his friends to either side of him, but now he stood with his garnet blue eyes lowered and his long white-blonde hair hiding the soft, bird-like features of his face. "If that is all you have to report, then I shall go to my room for a bit. I have been given much to think about."

Before the Silver Arrow or the twins could say a word Eragon vanished in a teleport with the sparkles colored like his eyes. The Silver Arrow sighed once Eragon was gone, and looked at the twins. No words were spoken between the three of them but no words were needed. Eragon was at long last going to be forced to wake up from his dream of Tilaria being a good person, but for the pain it would cause the Silver Arrow wished with all his heart that he did not need to shatter the prince's illusion.

When Eragon rematerialized in his room he dropped to his knees. Tilaria and his father were trying to kill each other? He stood and walked over to his nightstand by his bed. Lying there as if dropped carelessly on its surface was his wristbow.

Wristbows had been common in Alfheim's early history when combat recurve boys were used only by the Silver Arrows, and the rest of the Ljósálfr used wristbows in their place. After the Immortal Guard's creation, the Ljósálfr's weaponry had shifted from bows to swords and shields as if they were Æsir and wristbows were now almost impossible to find. Now all that remained were the recurve bows used by the rapidly shrinking Silver Arrows, and wristbows like Eragon's that were so rare other Ljósálfr often didn't recognize what it was.

Eragon's wristbow was six inches long and it looked like a teardrop shaped leaf with the point facing his fingers. The silver leaf-shaped arms of the wristbow were folded right now since it was in sleep mode, and they curled around the margin of the wristbow. A delicate silver midrib cut the leaf-shaped weapon in two, and just like a real leaf, it also had veins. Blue garnet light flowed through the veins like a river of blood might beneath the surface. Again, since it was not in battle mode the veins were dim.

He picked the wristbow up with one hand, noting that it had gotten dusty from neglect. Alfheim was a safe realm, and he was loved here. Never had he been attacked or bullied, or been in a position where he felt the need to raise his wristbow. Eventually he'd gotten tired of wearing it, and figured it was useless to lug around.

Even when he'd wondered the forest he'd left the wristbow on his nightstand. Eragon was a prince of Alfheim, and naturally connected to the realm. The trees whispered hello, and as a druid Eragon could say hello back, and even the animals bowed to him. No wild animals would dare hurt him, so there was no need to take the wristbow with him even if he went into the forest alone.

His magic hummed a warning that someone was appearing before him and Eragon almost raised the barriers around his room to shut out the intruder, not eager for a visitor. Then he realized whose magic it was, and he allowed Tilaria materialize in his room. He started to smile, believing that Tilaria would be fine and that the Silver Arrow was wrong about Hallien and Tilaria trying to actually kill each other instead of simply irritate each other to death.

His smile froze when Tilaria materialized, and he found himself not looking at her but at the blood that dripped onto the floor of his room. He raised his eyes from the floor and saw Tilaria's left arm hanging limp and uselessly by her side, and the left side of her tunic was soaked and burned. Eragon felt the wristbow fall from his fingers and clatter to the ground although he didn't really notice it.

Tilaria didn't even have the energy to raise her head before she fell to her knees hard, and then collapsed onto her stomach. Eragon stared at her and then stumbled over the wristbow in his haste to reach her side.

"Tilaria!" He shouted and dropped to his knees. "Sister!"

When he saw the burns on her shoulder, he froze with one hand raised stupidly. He had seen his father practice with the disruptor, and he recognized the burns from that. Tilaria had been shot by the disruptor, and it had to have been set to kill instead of stun to inflict such grievous wounds. The Silver Arrow hadn't been lying.

Eragon shook his head to free himself from his thoughts, knowing that Tilaria couldn't afford his weakness. He ran a hand just above the injury on her shoulder, and magic glittered from his fingers. The disruptor shot had disrupted her flow of lifeforce as it was set to kill, so the wound hadn't healed. It was dangerously close to her heart.

He hesitated only slightly before scrambling to his feet and setting his hand on the lock of his nightstand's drawer. The nightstand recognized the soul as being his, and allowed Eragon to pull it open. Inside were several things both important and not, but Eragon reached for a small black box. Quickly he opened it and withdrew a small, short vial made of diamond that was partially-filled with a silver liquid.

Without bothering to put anything back he ran back to Tilaria and turned her over so she was on her back, cringing at the feel of the blood oozing between his fingers. Her breathing was ragged, and it must have taken the last of her strength for her to teleport to him. Eragon set his features and unscrewed the lid of the vial.

Tilaria had parted her lips to try and gasp for breath, and Eragon took advantage of her movement to drizzle a single drop of the silver liquid between her lips. He sat back and quickly screwed the lid back on the vial as its effects began to work. There was no glow of light from a healing spell, and no light traced her veins, but he could sense it working. Her breathing leveled out within seconds, and the fingers of her left hand twitched as her pained features relaxed.

Eragon held the vial tightly to his chest with one hand, and held his breath as he watched Tilaria. Tilaria was adopted, and he knew it. He also knew that she was half-Æsir, but that did not change the fact she was his sister. His mother Anastasia had died when Eragon had been too young to remember her, so Tilaria had become both his mother and his older sister.

The effect of the potion finished, and Tilaria opened her eyes. She stared at the ceiling of woven branches, and then around Eragon's room. When she saw him, she looked confused for a few long seconds until she sat up suddenly quick.

"Eragon?" She whispered, and then smiled in relief. "I suppose if you're here than I did manage to teleport. Never try to teleport when you're nursing a hit from a Dökkálfr disruptor, the pain scrambles your magic too badly."

Eragon smiled at her comment, glad that she was okay. "You are lucky I still have some of this left."

He held out the vial with the potion he had given her and Tilaria nodded. Within that vial was unicorn's blood, a magical substance almost as rare as dragon's flame. A single drop could heal any injury or dispel any sickness, and Eragon had used his connection to Alfheim and its plants and animals to gain this blood from a unicorn.

"So I am," Tilaria murmured, having counted on that fact when she had come.

Eragon leaned over and ran his hand over her clothes, magically cleaning it of blood and mending the torn cloth. There, it was like she had never been injured in the first place. His hand lowered itself suddenly. She had been injured though, and by his father.

Tilaria guessed the source of his distress and raised her left arm, grateful it was working again, and set her hand on his head. He jumped at her movement, and leaned into her touch as she gently ruffled his hair like she usually did. Eragon was younger than her, and even though they were still sitting she could easily tell that the differences in their age. Seeing Tilaria covered in blood because of Hallien had shaken him badly, and the last thing Tilaria wanted to do was to cause her little brother pain.

"Sister," Eragon smiled gently at her.

Tilaria knew she needed to find some way to cheer up, so she removed her hand and poked him in the middle of his forehead lightly just below his widow's peak. Eragon made a noise of complaint at that, and looked confused when Tilaria pointed at something. When he followed her gaze he saw his discarded wristbow, and flushed.

"It's gathering dust," Tilaria informed him in a scolding tone.

Eragon could feel the tips of his ears turn red at the truth of her words. "So what sister? This realm is safe, so it's not like I need it."

He stood flustered and walked back over to his nightstand, replacing the unicorn blood in its rightful place and levitating the wristbow up to his hands.

"Eragon," Tilaria whispered softly.

Eragon looked up at her curiously, still holding the wristbow in his hands.

"You should wear that," she informed him with a nod at the wristbow.

Eragon opened his mouth to stay something, but Tilaria fixed him with a sharp enough glare that he closed it again.

"Things are not how they normally are," Tilaria warned him and touched her shoulder, reminding Eragon of her injury. "Please wear it, if only so I don't worry about you."

Eragon looked down at it dubiously, and Tilaria decided to tease him a little.

"Do you even remember how to shoot it?" She asked lightly.

Eragon felt his ears go red again, and he raised his right arm. With a quick movement from memory, Eragon slid the wristbow onto the mountings of his bracer until it clicked and locked into place. He raised his head up to her and Tilaria nodded.

"You remember how to put it on at least," she smiled.

Eragon set his left hand on the wristbow's leaf-like surface, and spoke softly. "You are not staying, are you Tilly?"

"No," Tilaria whispered and looked away. "I can't. Hallien's tried to kill me once already with his stupid disruptor, and I know he'll try again. I won't stay and risk putting you in harm's way."

Eragon lowered his wristbow and stepped forward, hugging Tilaria and resting his head against her chest. He didn't want his sister to leave, and he didn't want his family to be fighting.

"Promise me you'll wear you wristbow for a while," Tilaria request softly and stroked his back.

"You know why, don't you?" Tilaria asked. "Normally you are safe, but things are not normal now. If you were hurt I don't know what I'd do. You don't have to wear the saber you're always threatening to throw in the river, but wear your wristbow."

"I will wear it," Eragon promised.

Tilaria exhaled softly in relief and stepped back from Eragon, forcing her brother to release her. "Do me another favor, and clean it."

She tapped on the wristbow's surface, dusty and dull and almost crying out to be polished. Eragon gave an innocent laugh at the wristbow's sorry state, but nodded. Since he was going to be wearing it for a while, it would be best for him to clean it and practice a little with it.

He couldn't find the energy to raise his head however. His father and sister were trying to kill each other, and uncle Daris obviously didn't care enough to try and stop them. Now Tilaria was going to leave, but he wanted his sister here with him instead of wandering Alfheim.

"Eragon," Tilaria said seriously and knelt so she was of closer height to him. "I'll be fine. As long as I know you're safe I'll be just fine."

"You cannot promise something like that that's beyond your control," Eragon argued in a voice similar to sulking.

"I suppose not," Tilaria admitted, "but I'll stay alive. After all, someone's gotta keep an eye on you."

Eragon felt himself trembling and then ran forward the few steps to his sister, throwing his arms around her shoulders. His eyes stung and his chest felt tight. Tilaria ran her fingers through his long hair a few times, enjoying this last hug with her brother. She didn't know when she would see him again, but she hoped it was soon.

Then she stood and stepped back. She smiled at him gently and he returned it. Eragon let his sister teleport away from him with a heavy heart. He already wanted his sister back.

* * *

**Despite rumors to the contrary, the trial was the first time Tilaria and Hallien honestly tried to kill each other. Eragon is very sweet and gentle, and will day be a kind king. He is also naive and overly trusting, but he simply can't see the darkness around him. That isn't a bad thing, but Eragon will be glad he agreed to wear his wristbow as the story continues.**

**Tilaria is not all good, for she, like every being, has both light and dark in her soul. Her dark is usually apparent as she strives against the discrimination and abuse of being a halfling. Eragon is her light, and her concern for him is true. **

**Eragon's wristbow looks vaguely like ****Cleophee's from the _Wakfu_ anime. It's French i think instead of Japanese, and really good if you can push through the first four episodes. **

**That was off topic, so read and review - the normal. Thanks and i hope you enjoy the rest of the story.**


	8. Whispers in the Wind

Rane's shift was over and he stalked towards the barracks, frustrated with how things had turned out. He considered it a small miracle that none of his squadron had been massacred by Tilaria. Daris had said that Tilaria was of no more used to them and so was to be executed, yet she had escaped.

Although he did intend to go to the barracks, Daris appeared off the side of his course. Rane had a feeling he wanted to talk, so he went over to him and was soon teleported back to Daris's study where they could talk in private. Once they materialized, Rane looked to Daris expectedly.

"That was a surprise," was the first thing Daris said.

Rane considered that a severe understatement. Planning a coup to kill the current ruling family was difficult under any circumstances, and having an unknown variable like Tilaria on the loose made things even more difficult.

"A surprise sir," Rane said dubiously. "That is one way to put it. What are we going to do with Tilaria?"

"Nothing at the moment," Daris responded calmly.

"_Nothing_," Rane repeated in a sharper voice then he meant to use, making Daris glance at him.

"Nothing," Daris reaffirmed. "After taking a hit with a disruptor like that she is hardly a threat. I do not doubt that she will find a way to heal the injury soon, but for the moment it is not our immediate concern. Besides, I think she might be useful to us after all."

"How sir?" Rane asked in a respectful tone. "She will not allow harm to come to Prince Eragon, and I do not think she will easily kill Hallien because Eragon does not want him to be hurt."

"The royal family is off limits to her, yes," Rane agreed. "However, there are many loyalists that she could dispose of for us while we eliminate the royals. As long as she does not know we are planning to kill them, I do not think she will say no. How is our jewel coming along?"

"With the chaos Tilaria has caused and Hallien's collapse there have been no more visitors to Svartalfheim," Rane relayed, glad something was going according to plan. "It is secure, and nearing completion. I believe another month and we will be ready."

"So we need only buy a month's worth of time," Daris mused softly.

"Sir," Rane asked respectfully. "Why did you not kill Hallien when he was unconscious? You could have blamed it on Tilaria."

"Too many Immortal Guard present," Daris said mildly, "and they were not your squad. I would have had to kill them all as well, and there other Ljósálfr on the way. The only chance we stand at succeeding is if we have surprise on our side. If Hallien is ready for us, then we stand no chance. Besides, Eragon was not present and he has to be killed as well."

Rane understood, but he didn't like how skewed the plan was becoming. "Are we going to pursue immediate action against the royal family, or wait the month until our jewel is finished?"

"I would rather wait," Daris agreed, "but I am not sure we have the luxury to wait anymore with Tilaria out there. I did not help her escape the trial, and it is likely she noticed that. She may not listen to me anymore."

Rane was afraid of that. There were too many unknown to wait, for if they waited then the unknowns might grow and fester. They had to strike now before things strayed further from the plan.

"I suppose we are lucky that we have the Dökkálfr's technology," Daris said suddenly. "The Dökkálfr were the most dangerous race in the realms, and so many of their toys have been left behind, like our jewel. It is hard to imagine the scale of power we now have thanks to our jewel. Once it is fully operational we will be unstoppable, so no matter how the battle goes here on Alfheim, we need only stall one month."

"One month one war?" Rane asked in amusement.

Daris chuckled softly. "Yes, something like that Lieutenant. With Tilaria on the loose after Hallien's injuries we will have the leverage we need to mobilize your squadron and the others loyal to me without raising any suspicions."

"As you wish sir," Rane agreed, "but sir. Are you going to tell Tilaria about Hallien's identify?"

"I could," Daris admitted after thinking on it. "If I did then chances are high she would help me kill him. Eragon no, but she could help eliminate Hallien. Perhaps I will tell her Hallien's true name. In the meantime, ready our troops for what is to come. Arlen is dead so he will not get in our way, but Hallien's loyalists will."

"Yes sir."

* * *

While the treason of Daris was being planned in greater detail and Tilaria's escape worked into their plan, Eragon was walking to the Silver Arrow's encampment. His wristbow was locked onto his bracer, and it had been polished and oiled so it looked like new again. He had made a promise to Tilaria to keep it with him, and so he would. It had been such a long time since Eragon had last used it that he felt he should practice with it, which was why he was heading to the Silver Arrows.

When he arrived he hung around the edge of their camp unnoticed while the Silver Arrows sparred. They were using curved staffs that mimicked the shape of their bow because there were some situation where even a long-range fighter like the Silver Arrows was dragged into close combat. Others were working hand-to-hand or using daggers. Some were doing Staminata together off to one side.

Unlike the Immortal Guard, there was no metal armor in sight, and no shields or swords either. Their only armor was leather vests and leather bracers, though some wore gloves that came up to their elbows in place of bracers. Those who were fighting hand-to-hand were the most enchanting to watch and took up the most room as they used agility and evasion to fight. They were taking advantage of an Eladrin's naturally superior balance and grace to utilize flips, handsprings, and somersaults in battle.

Eragon always wished he had the Silver Arrows grace, for it seemed like something out of a fairytale to him. He turned away from those sparring, and quietly walked over to the archery field where the other half were currently training with their recurve bows.

Unlike the Immortal Guard, which had been made about six thousand years ago to counter Asgard's Star Guard, the Silver Arrows had no counter or equal within the realms. With the Dark Elves extinction, the Silver Arrows had become the most dangerous warriors and it saddened Eragon to see how much their numbers had fallen.

Five thousand years ago, the Immortal Guard had become the core of Alfheim's army in place of the Silver Arrows. Because of that, and because it was easier to don armor, swing a sword, and hide behind a shield then it was to learn to fight as a Silver Arrow, most of the new recruits went to the Immortal Guard.

Unlike the Immortal Guard, which were split up into dozens of different camps and barracks, the Silver Arrow's camp near the palace was the only one left. All the Silver Arrows trained here, and because of the close proximity they had learned to get along with each other and trust each other. They were a close faction.

Another difference between them and the Immortal Guard Eragon realized was that unlike the Immortal Guard, there were just as many female archers as there were male. In fact, about 60% of the Silver Arrows were female. Only about 20% of the Immortal Guard were female, and excluding women from their ranks was another idiotic habit they had picked up from the Æsir. When they had copied the Star Guard to make the Immortal Guard, there were some aspects of the Star Guard that they copied too well.

Eragon walked beneath two flags that hung from a tree, pointing downward. One was the flag of Alfheim, and had a giant golden sun on a field of dark green. The sun's arms reached up to the top and the bottom of the flag, and reached about halfway to the left and right sides of the rectangular cloth. Within the sun in dark green was an outline of the same maple leaves that made up the Emerald Crown.

Next to it was the Silver Arrows flag. It had five silver arrows arrayed in a fan shape with the arrowheads pointing up. The background was a more subdued green-gray, the same color as the Silver Arrows cloaks.

Their cloaks muted color was not the same rich green as the Immortal Guard's, but it broke up the light that filtered through the canopy and allowed them to fade into the forest's shadows. Someone could walk a foot from them, and not see them. Unlike the Immortal Guard who, as the Silver Arrows said, focused on showing off and looking good, the Silver Arrows simply won the battle. Wandering through Alfheim's thick forest in armor was stupid, and that was why the Arrows wore only light-weight, flexible leather.

Needless to say, the Silver Arrows and Immortal Guard did not get along. For the sake of everyone's peace, the two factions were usual kept separate. Their lack of contact with the Immortal Guard also meant coincidentally that they didn't have contact with Daris and his followers, so their loyalty to Hallien had been left mostly untouched. They were an even more dangerous wild card then Tilaria.

The Silver Arrows didn't know of Daris's plans however, and some of the ones practicing at the archery field stopped when Eragon approached. Since they did not want to destroy the target, the Silver Arrows were using wooden arrows with dull metal heads to practice instead of materializing their own arrows. Eragon approached them a little shyly, aware that most Silver Arrows saw wristbows as inferior weapons made for civilians. A Silver Arrow would no more use a crossbow then a wristbow.

The Silver Arrows were surprised to see Ergon walk up to them with his wristbow, and one of them called out as much. "Are you wearing your wristbow?"

Eragon could feel his ears turning red again as he nodded. He was not scolded or scorned, and one of the Silver Arrows waved him over so she could inspect his wristbow. By now, the Silver Arrows had learned that Eragon had neither the patience nor skill to master a recurve bow. It was why he had a wristbow, a miniature wrist-mounted version of a crossbow, as his primary weapon.

"I am surprised to see you wearing it," the Silver Arrow who had been inspecting it told him, "and that it is in such good shape."

"Father and Tilaria got into a fight," Eragon spoke softly, telling only half the reason why he wore it since he didn't think it would be good for them to know he had spoken with Tilaria. "Things aren't normal right now because of it."

The Silver Arrow who had been inspecting Eragon's wristbow was the same one who had gone with Arlen as escort when he had traveled to Asgard. There, Arlen, the most level-headed and easy-smiling of Hallien's council had tried to murder Tilaria. Eragon was correct about one thing, at the moment things were far from normal.

"Very true," she agreed and stood. "Did you come here for some practice?"

Eragon nodded, knowing that it had been long enough since his last use with it that he needed practice. "Is there a place where I can practice with its materialized arrows instead of wood ones?"

"There is," the Silver Arrow told him, and collapsed her bow to its hilt-size for easy travel. "I can show you, if you don't mind."

"Are you going to help the prince, Sana?" One of the Silver Arrows practicing called out and relaxed his draw on the bowstring.

Sana clipped her hilt-sized recurve bow onto her belt with a nod. "Go ahead and keep practicing Kharis, I'll watch over Eragon. If that's alright, my prince?"

"That's fine," Eragon told her quickly, still surprised the Silver Arrows weren't scolding him for his wristbow or lack of practice.

Sana led Eragon away to the field, and Kharis magicked the arrows Sana had shot back to her quiver rather than leave them scattered. Although Silver Arrows took great care of their bows and having it destroyed was considered one of the greatest dishonors they could face, they did not take much care of arrows. There was no reason why they should though, for Silver Arrow's didn't need to carry quivers. They materialized their arrows with a pull of the bowstring and could never run out.

Kharis didn't look after Sana and Eragon as he went back to practice, not wishing to look suspicious. Daris did have an ally among the Silver Arrows, but only Kharis and Kharis knew that Eragon was quite effective with his wristbow when he put his mind to it. Having the prince armed would make him harder to kill, which could once more affect Daris's plan.

Kharis would have to alert Daris to the new problem, and soon.

* * *

**Daris's one and only ally among the Silver Arrows has found another flaw in Daris's "perfect" plan. Like with the recurve, Eragon's wristbow has an unlimited number of shots, and the fact that it only takes one hand to do long-range magicless attacks reminds me of a gun. Sana is the unnamed Silver Arrow from "_Supers before the Heroes_" but she's not that important. Kharis a little more so since he's Daris's only spy in the Silver Arrows.**

**The Silver Arrow's decline is mainly because of globalization. Globalization has many advantages, but one disadvantage is that other countries (or worlds in this case) start to have their own culture diluted by the "ruling" country. For Alfhiem it's Asgard's culture. Alfheim is a world covered in a single forest with no breaks in the canopy overhead with thick undergrowth, shadowy corners, and tree trunks close together. Wearing something heavy and cumbersome like armor and using something like a sword that takes room to wield effectively doesn't make much sense, and that's why Asgard has never managed to actually defeat Alfheim ironically, yet the Immortal Guard are still the ruling group. **

**The Silver Arrows are the rightful warriors of Alfheim and besides, they're elves. Elves and bows go hand in hand. **


	9. Act 1, Scene 1

Many things could be said about Alfheim from its unfair discrimination against the Night Hairs to the Silver Arrows fading status, but one undeniable thing was that it was a realm full of life. Of all the realms, Alfheim was actually the fullest of life with an endless forest that encompassed the entire planet from pole to pole. The realm had been placed in an eternal summer by magic when its orbit around its G-type main-sequence star had been altered artificially.

The effects of such life-giving magic on both the sun and Alfheim were easy to see. Within the forests the trees were as giant, if not more so, then sequoia redwoods. Many elven cities existed high within the branches of these trees, invisible thanks to the leafy branches. Berry bushes as tall as Tilaria covered the forest floor irregularly along with ferns, baby trees, and other shrubbery. Chirps of dozens of different types of birdsong and the rustle of undergrowth from furred creatures provided a soft, edible background noise.

Tilaria knew the background noise was edible because as she walked she ate some leftover rabbit she had magically cooked last night for dinner. When she added some wild thyme, rosemary, and garlic she had found to it, it had tasted delicious. It had been three days since she had escaped her trial, and after saying goodbye to Eragon, left. Leaving Eragon was painful for her but her presence near him would only put him in unnecessary danger, and as long as he was wearing his wristbow she felt that he could stay safe. Alfheim itself listened to Eragon after all, and he had more than druid magic at his fingertips.

She ate the last piece of the strip of rabbit flesh and tucked the rest of the food back into a pocket of subspace, folded space rather, to keep it out of her way. Even with this much life around her, Tilaria was careful to ration her food. A blackberry bush caught her eye, so Tilaria walked over to it to pick some for desert.

Three days ago she had killed seven Immortal Guard with her blood magic, but she had yet to be bothered by it. It was odd, since Tilaria knew killing should bother her. Was it bad that it didn't? Not being affected by her kills did make it easier for her to use her blood magic, so she supposed it was a good thing.

She made a bowl out of a few leaves held together with magic and began to put the black berries inside it. The thorns on the bush were almost as long as her pinky, and she took great care and respect as she removed the berries. Tilaria took no more than she wanted to eat, and left the rest to Alfheim rather than take extra and possibly have it go to waste.

Tilaria waved the hand that was not cradling her bowl, and the leaves from a fallen branch the size of a log cleared themselves off so she could sit. As she went to sit, she saw a flash of red and knelt curious. It was a wild strawberry plant, and the strawberries looked ripe enough to eat. She sat next to the strawberry plant and ate one of the blackberries. Loki would love wild strawberries.

The thought of Loki and Asgard made her stop as she picked up another blackberry, and she let it drop back in with the others. Tilaria knew she could not stay here on Alfheim and wander the forest. Hallien was surely awake and recovered by now, and he could use the Emerald Crown to turn the trees of the forest against her. She had little doubt after getting shot with the disruptor that Hallien would kill her if he could. It wasn't safe for her to stay on Alfheim anymore.

Tilaria tightened her hand on the bowl, fingernails digging into the leaves. She didn't mind leaving Alfheim too much as it had never been a home to her, but if she left Alfheim then she probably wouldn't see Eragon again. Would she even be welcome of Asgard?

As long as they didn't find out about her kills or her blood magic, Tilaria figured she would be. Odin loved adopting half-elves onto Asgard, aware their abilities were superior to an Æsir's. She wouldn't be turned down on terms of her heritage, but what would Hallien do?

He might demand Odin hand her back to him, and as he was her foster father he had the right to do so. Odin wouldn't have a choice but to return her to avoid strife, and if he found out about how many she had killed he might not want her on his realm near his sons. If she went to Asgard and Hallien demanded her back then she would be in the same mess as she was currently, only it was much harder to hide on the smaller realm of Asgard with both the barriers and Heimdall to find her.

No, she couldn't risk going to Asgard. With a sigh she ate the rest of the blackberries and let the leaves that had made up her bowl fall to the ground. Whether she liked it or not, she was on her own.

A presence drifted close to her mind, and her telepathy warned her of it. Tilaria threw up her mental shields an instant before the presence touched her mind, and was left to sulk outside her shields. She started cursing, realizing that she needed to get rid of this person and move before she was found.

Tilaria realized in sudden surprise that she knew the presence. Like with souls, no two mindprints were the same and another person's mindprint could not be mimicked. She knew this was Daris contacting her, but she felt wary for the first time about responding to him. He had been willing to let Hallien shoot her.

_*Daris?* _She asked in a wary tone.

_*It is me*_ Daris responded to her telepathy with his own. _*Are you alright? I know you were injured in your escape.*_

_*Yes, I was injured by Hallien's disruptor*_ Tilaria agreed, not mentioning her visit to Eragon or that her wound was healed. _*Which happened because you let Hallien shoot me.*_

Daris could have banged his head against his desk at Tilaria's voice and words. He wanted Tilaria on his side to help him kill the loyalists while he eliminated his cousin and Eragon. Maybe he would have to tell her what Hallien truly was after all.

_*Where are you?*_ Daris asked her.

_*In the forest*_ Tilaria replied, and since Alfheim was solid forest it was her way of saying she was on Alfheim.

This was neither the response nor attitude that he wanted from her. Her trust in him had been fractured, and he doubted she would come to the city or even help him kill the loyalists. Tilaria had killed out of need, not of will. It no longer seemed like that plan would work, what a surprise, and he would have to change to his secondary plan.

_*Hallien has recovered from his injuries*_ Daris relayed in a roundabout manner. _*He is not in a very good mood with you, my dear.*_

_*As expected*_ Tilaria told him and sat back down on the branch the size of a log.

_*It is too dangerous for you to come back to the capital, but will you go to Anar's Ruins? There is something about Hallien I must tell you.*_ Daris said in a voice that asked rather then ordered.

_*The fact that he's a blood mage?*_ Tilaria asked, and realized that was what Daris was thinking from how the state of his mind shifted. _*I know.*_

_*How long exactly have you known that?*_ Daris asked, speaking cautiously now.

_*I can smell the blood in his aura*_ Tilaria shrugged _*I thought as a blood mage you would also have been able to tell. You didn't know?*_

_*No*_ Daris admitted with a bit of brittle irritation that he hadn't known and Tilaria hadn't mentioned it beforehand _*but there is more for me to tell you and I have neither the time nor the safety to do so now. Will you meet me tonight at Anar's Ruins?*_

Tilaria was surprised that he was repeating the question and thought about it. Anar's Ruins were what was left of Anar's base of operations he had used when he had killed Amras, and promptly been attacked by Prince Hallien and his friends. He was also Daris's father.

_*Why there?*_ She asked as she thought.

_*Because no one will be there*_ Daris said with shortening patience. _*Besides, I know the layout of it, and I'm aware that you've visited it before.*_

_*Every elfin child is dared to visit it by their friends at some point*_ Tilaria corrected _*but I do know my way around it.*_

She said nothing else, and Daris prompted her to speak again with a _*Tilaria.*_

Tilaria thought about the strawberries near her, but knew she could not risk going to Asgard and being betrayed by Odin. Although Daris had not helped her escape, she could not entirely blame him for that. If he had then Hallien would have thrown him in the dungeon for treason already. Daris had not helped her escape for that reason, but neither had he tried to stop her. He hadn't really betrayed her, and she didn't think he would. Odin might.

_*The sun will set soon*_ Tilaria agreed softly. _*I can't make it tonight but I'll be there tomorrow at moonhigh.*_

_*Agreed*_ Daris did the telepathic version of a nod. _*Go the southwest courtyard when you do. I'll meet you there.*_

Tilaria knew where that was, so let the telepathic link fade in agreement. Daris was pleased by that. Since it was obvious he could not get Tilaria to come to him, he would now go to her and bring Hallien with him. He could kill Hallien himself, while his followers here at the palace dispatched Prince Eragon. Tomorrow night, Tilaria would go and he would kill her if she didn't decide to join him after hearing the truth about Hallien.

He had thought that he would need to stall for three more weeks until the jewel on Svarta was finished before actually making his move, but now he realized he didn't. The night after tonight would end everything.

Daris remembered tartly Hallien summoning him to his study earlier that day. Hallien knew that Daris was the one who had taught Tilaria blood magic, and that he himself used it. He didn't know what Daris's plan was, so Daris allowed himself to get in trouble for the blood magic so Hallien did not pry deeper and accidently find the treason.

Rather than go in person to inform Hallien of the new plan Daris gently touched an orange crystal flower with a very soft glow that grew from the lightvine in his study. This flower was shaped like a lily instead of a bellflower, and its use was not to provide light but transmit messages. The closed petals of the message lily opened at his touch and Daris quietly told it "Hallien's study."

As he expected the lily flashed only a few times before the glow brightened as Hallien responded. Message lilies that grew from the lightvine were living flowers even though they were crystal. Just like the bellflowers that provided light and the vine itself, it was alive. The wonders of magic never ceased.

"Did it work Daris?" Hallien asked, his voice transmitted to the orange message flower.

"Partly my king" Daris admitted, relishing in the fact that this was going to be one of the last time he would call Hallien that. "Tilaria still trusts me enough to listen, but she won't enter the capital like you hoped she would. Rather, she's agreed to meet me at Anar's Ruins tonight at moonhigh."

Daris knew that Tilaria had said tomorrow night at moonhigh, and that was exactly why he wanted Hallien to go there tonight. Tonight, in a few hours, he would kill Hallien at the ruins. While that happened, the multitude of Immortal Guard loyal to him would kill Eragon.

"That sounds fine," Hallien informed him. "I better go. As Tilaria's mentor you can counter her blood."

"Don't trust me to capture her myself?" Daris asked in a slightly mocking voice that was sure to get a response.

"No," Hallien informed him bluntly. "I will gather some guard."

"I would advise not to," Daris cautioned. "By bringing more people you will only give Tilaria more targets, and more blood to work with. As a blood mage I can counter her and the Emerald Crown will shield you as well, but others will be vulnerable."

Hallien didn't respond, and Daris kept speaking to press his point.

"If we bring too many she might also sense a trap," Daris continued smoothly. "She might bolt all the Asgard, and you know if she goes there Odin will allow her to stay. Even with the charges against her, he will want her power and protect her from us. We can't afford to let her run."

There was silence on Hallien's end, and Daris stared at the message lily intently. Hallien had to agree with this in order for it to work.

"Three guards," Hallien agreed.

With those words of agreement, the steady glow of the message lily dimmed. Daris had no further messages to send so he let the lily's glow vanish and the lily's petals to fold back into a bud. He couldn't help but smile.

No more stalling was needed, and neither was his jewel. What a surprise. Divide and conquer was the oldest tactic in the back, and it still worked _like a charm_, or rather, it worked like a curse.

* * *

**You might not have caught this, but this chapter's title comes from the fact that this essentially act 1, scene 1. Although he has talked about it up until now, this is the true start of Daris's treason. Is killing Hallien truly treason though? Hallien is not necessarily the good guy either.**

**Even on a world of magic wielding elves, the oldest tactic of divide and conquer still works. Neither Hallien nor Tilaria trust Daris completely, but they don't have to trust him completely, just enough so he can kill them which he is now perilously close to doing. As it says in the summary, only blood magic can truly counter blood magic, and we already know that Hallien can't use any without corrupting the Emerald Crown and Alfheim's lifeforce. If he doesn't use his blood magic, then he'll just be paralyzed again, and an easy target for Daris. **

**Tonight is going to be a night to remember.**


	10. Genesis

Later that night, on the night the civil war truly began, it was warm and muggy. The sky was dark with thick black clouds, and promised that there would be a thunderstorm. There was no light from the moon or stars because of the clouds, and Hallien walked calmly between the trees to Anar's Ruins with Daris and three Immortal Guard. One of the Immortal Guard with them was loyal to Daris, but Rane had been left at the palace to kill Eragon.

Hallien had not returned to this cursed place since his father had been murdered by Anar and he had come to retrieve the Emerald Crown from his uncle's cruel grasp. The scars on Hallien's wrists burned at the memory of his blood magic that night when he had corrupted the Emerald Crown and cracked Alfheim's lifeforce. It was a battle he dearly wished he could forget, yet now he was returning to that same site once again. He would be lying if he said he felt calm about it.

Most Ljósálfr buildings were built inside the trees or in their branches, and made from the tree itself. Ljósálfr did not cut down trees or dig great scars into the planet to mine for stone or metal. What little of those they needed the trees dragged up from the soil and gave to them themselves. Their coexistence with their realm had always be harmonic.

Anar's base was not at all like that. Rather than be made from the forest by the forest's will, his base was made of ivory tiles and stone. It was not near the forest that sheltered the Ljósálfr, but high above the canopy of trees on the side of a mountain. The mountain's name was Lome Elen, and its name translated into evening star.

Sitting on Lome Elen, sweeping upwards with height and grandeur in a grand design, was Anar's base. Inside, it had vaulted ceilings and pointed arches over every doorway. In its prime it had had a light and airy interior with giant stained glass windows to let in colored sunlight, pure and unfiltered by the forest's canopy. There was no building like to it on all of Alfheim.

The path they were taking that led up to the base was already far above the canopy of trees, and from the path they were walking up to the base Daris could look over and see the forest below him. Very few Ljósálfr ever saw the canopy from above it, and he looked at it now even though it was too dark for him to make out any details. He glanced away from the canopy to the path ahead of them and saw the approaching base.

It had suffered from the hands of Hallien's friends who had gotten ahold of explosives, from Hallien's own blood magic, and simple neglect. When they reached Anar's ruined base, the group silently entered. Despite how much time had passed and how much damage had been done the comfort charms were still in place, so once the group passed the base's threshold the too humid air dried to acceptable levels.

Daris thought tartly that his father had known how to make a base that would last. He looked around, trying to remember what it looked like before Hallien and his friends had destroyed it and murdered his father. Revenge for his father's fate was yet another reason why Daris had to kill Hallien besides the simple fact of Hallien's real name. Hallien looked back at him, and Daris was drawn from his memories by his voice.

"Where is she?" He whispered quietly so his voice would not echo.

"The southwest courtyard that's open to the sky," Daris responded just as softly.

His answer surprised Hallien, but the king kept walking with a signal for the other guards to spread out. They did so of course, but Hallien was now troubled. That was the place where he had killed Anar in front of Daris when both of them had been children. Why would he have Tilaria go there of all places?

Daris pretend not to notice Hallien's unease and looked around, trying to see the base as it was before it had been ruined with little success. Its interior beauty had vanished, and the damage from Hallien and his friends had made part of it collapse. There wasn't much left of the second floor, and the east wing had slid down the mountain and now rested at the base as a pile of rubble.

Both Hallien and Daris jumped when they heard a loud bang and the bouncing clatter of something sliding across the floor strewn with shards of broken glass and pieces of stone that had fallen. A goblet rolled up to Hallien's feet and the king looked at it with a dour, cross look. The Immortal Guard who had accidently kicked the fallen goblet across the floor felt his ears turn red and he looked away. It was the Immortal Guard who was loyal to Daris, but Daris didn't even look at him in irritation.

One of the other Immortal Guard shook his head at the other one's clumsiness and then walked right into one of the support pillars of the base. He stumbled back and dropped his saber, putting a hand over his nose. That was the moment when the third Immortal Guard tripped on a fallen chair and fell flat on his stomach. Hallien clapped his over his eyes at their disaster.

"Can you lot be any nosier?" Daris growled at them.

"It is dark sir," the Immortal Guard who had fallen complained as he stood.

Hallien lowered his hand from his face. The Emerald Crown had naturally allowed Hallien to see the dark, and it was easy for Daris to use a night vision charm, but these guards did not have such a supply of magic or its luxury. He touched the sun of topaz and amber on the Emerald Crown and then held out his hands towards the guards. As he wished, the Emerald Crown gifted them with the ability to see in the darkness.

"There," Hallien said softly. "The charm will last until sunrise."

The Immortal Guard loyal to Hallien bowed thanks, but the one who followed Daris's orders looked a little surprised. Ljósálfr were used to the light being a little dim from being filtered through the canopy, but once the sun set they usually went inside. Unlike the Dökkálfr, Ljósálfr had terrible night vision.

They stepped through the pointed archway doors that led outside to the courtyard where Anar had been killed, and where Hallien falsely believed Tilaria waited. It was a mess of rubble, scorch marks, bones, and old blood. There was an odd vibe in the air that made the Ljósálfr flutter in their steps, and a human would describe it as being haunted. Hallien looked over the bones long since stripped of their flesh by the sun and crows impassively.

He motioned to the Immortal Guard to stay back and walked forward behind Daris. Even the Emerald Crown was having a hard time keeping Hallien's vision clear of shadows. Daris knew it was an effect of his curse's power, but with Hallien's blood magic sealed the king could not tell he was walking into a trap. All he knew was that his head hurt, and he didn't know what was causing it.

Surprisingly, the thick black clouds that had been feeding off of Daris's curse parted slightly and a sliver of moonlight emerged. Hallien could not see it as he walked forward, but if you were a bird you could look down on that courtyard and realize the lines of blood on the stones were not random. They formed a magic circle of blood magic, a five point star made with five straight lines surrounded by two circles. Between the two circles were blood runes.

Daris walked past the lines drawn in blood of his magic circle and stood in the center of the star on top of a vaguely -shaped rune. This was the core, where all of the magic of the circle's spell would be channeled and commanded from. He looked around as if searching for Tilaria as Hallien walked towards him with a tsk, stopping just outside the lines of blood to Daris's annoyance.

"She's not here," Hallien said.

Although his senses were muddled by the shadows and his head hurt, Hallien was certain of that much. Of course she's not here, Daris thought. She's coming tomorrow.

Aloud he shook his head and said. "So it appears."

"_So it appears_," Hallien repeated with a hiss.

Oblivious to the danger, Hallien did the worst possible thing and stepped forward – into the pentagram.

"Yes," Daris smiled softly. "So it appears."

He activated the circle's power without any hesitation, and the lines of dried blood turned silver by the moonlight lit up a different color. They glowed and became a red-black color as the circle activated. Hallien tried to step back, but with the circle's power awake he found he could not pass. So long as the circle was here he could not leave it, and was trapped within. He recovered quickly.

"You _are_ Tilaria's mentor," Hallien snarled softly and held out his right hand.

His disruptor appeared in it, and Hallien tightened his fingers around the grip as he pointed it at Daris. It was still set on kill.

"As you guessed during Tilaria's trial," Daris agreed. "I would ask you for the crown, but even if I did it would not accept me."

"You lured me out here to assassinate me," Hallien said darkly. "Killing me will not get me the crown, and you are not killing me."

"I'm afraid you are mistaken there," Daris chuckled. "You will not leave here alive, and once you die I will get the crown, for by then Eragon should be dead to."

Hallien inhaled sharply, and his eyes widened. "What did you say?"

There was a sound behind him, and Hallien turned in horror to see that one of the Immortal Guard had killed the other, and the two still alive were now fighting each other.

"I have many followers," Daris smiled. "You see one before you killing your loyalists, but where do you think the others are hmm? They never left the palace."

"No," Hallien whispered in horror as the hand with the disruptor in it began to shake.

"You did though," Daris laughed. "Gullible that you were, you left little Eragon all alone."

Daris raised his head and looked up to the black clouds.

"My troops within the palace have their orders," Daris looked back at Hallien with a triumphant yet smug smile. "At moonhigh the prince dies, and it happens to be moonhigh now. Even if you somehow defeat me, you'll be too late to save your son."

Hallien had been focused on finding Tilaria, as he had foolishly believed she was the true threat because of who her father. He had been so focused on her that he had overlooked Daris's use of blood. Eragon was going to die, and it was his fault. What had he done?

* * *

**Oh no, Hallien fell right into Daris's trap. He fell so completely into it that it's embarrassing, and little Eragon had to deal with the rest of Daris's loyalists all on his own.**

**Genesis is a synonym for beginning, for this chapter does mark the beginning not just of the war, but of a much deeper plot that continues after this story's end.**

**Moonhigh is midnight, and sunhigh is noon. Just in case you couldn't tell.**


	11. Treason

While Hallien and Daris faced off, Eragon was sound asleep. His dream, or rather his nightmare, was troubled and he was tossing and turning in his sleep with ragged breathing. In his dream he was standing in the forest. He could hear the trees wailing and their branches and roots grabbed at him. The wailing brought tears to his eyes, and as Eragon watched helplessly the leaves of the forest wilted and the braches of the trees began to crack and fall dead to the ground. He couldn't breathe easily for the air was chokingly thick with blood.

Eragon tried to run from the scent and Alfheim's lament, but no matter how far he ran the scent remained. Leaves from the plants scratched at his face and arms, and he winced as kept running. The planet kept trying to grab him and eventually the plants branches managed to grab him up like a clawed hand.

"What's going on?" Eragon shouted at the trees as he was dragged into the air. "Alfheim! What are you so scared of?"

He knew this dream was from Alfheim, but he couldn't understand what his home wanted him to know. The branches of Alfheim suddenly released Eragon and he fell through the air to the ground. What was it that Alfheim was trying to tell him?

The shock from the fall jolted Eragon from his nightmare and into the real world. His blue garnet eyes opened just in time to see the blade of a sword arcing down towards him. Now Eragon let out a small shriek and flung up his left arm instinctively to protect itself.

The sword's blade hit a golden energy field that materialized protectively around Eragon's arm, and recoiled with enough force to send Eragon's attacker flying backwards. He hit the ground hard enough that Eragon's attacker did not stir. Eragon lay in bed with the arm he had raised trembling, and a stunned look on his usually bright features. This ward around Eragon's arm was not from his own magic, but from the pure golden essence of the realm's lifeforce. Alfheim had protected him.

Eragon sat up in bed and lowered his arm as Alfheim's ward dissolved into small simplified golden "birds" that looked like a pair of diamond shaped wings. Magic was artificially colored to be the same color as the magic user's soul, but since no one had a golden soul the magic would forever be diluted. The truest form of magic was the golden birds around Eragon, and only Alfheim itself could use this magic.

Eragon looked at his attacker in uncomprehending shock as the birds fluttered around him protectively. They made a chirping sound as if there were a thousand birds chirping at once endlessly, but the sound was soothing and reassuring rather than unpleasant. This was true magic. His attacker was an Immortal Guard.

"What?" Eragon whispered as the true magic's birds began to fade, "An Immortal Guard? Why?"

There were footsteps outside his room, and two more Immortal Guard ran in. Eragon started to relax, assuming that these were friends. The true magic flashed around him briefly in warning, and Eragon tensed again. Alfheim's instincts were correct, for a second later one of the new Guard drew his sword. It wasn't just one Immortal Guard trying to kill him.

Eragon threw out both of his hands in a gust of wind, and the Immortal Guard raised their arms to shield their faces. It wasn't a gust of wind honed sharply enough to slice off limbs, but a blunt one meant to knock them back. While they raised their arms Eragon reached over in bed for his wristbow.

He had spent all day today training with his wristbow and magic, and when he had finally gone to bed he had been exhausted. Eragon had been so tired that h had forgotten to take off his wristbow's bracer before he had gone to bed. It was a stroke of good luck now because Eragon was able to reach over to his nightstand and instantly lock his wristbow onto his bracer.

The last of the true magic around him faded, but Eragon knew that was for the best. In order to help Eragon, Alfheim had to give its lifeforce to him, lifeforce that should be used for sustaining the life of the planet and those on it. Every time Alfheim helped him with the true magic the leaves in the forest would wilt and the temperature would get dangerously cold as Alfheim's very lifeforce was drained. It helped him at the cost of life on the planet. He didn't want the life on Alfheim to suffer.

Eragon held out his right hand towards the attacking guards with his fingers straight and relaxed, and then he tightened his hand into a fist sharply. As it was supposed to, the movement switched the wristbow from sleep mode to battle mode. Its silver vine-like arms that had been retracted around the edge of the wristbow's body snapped out straight so it looked like a crossbow, and light like blue garnet glittered around those arms like ribbons of sparkling dust. An arrow made of the same energy materialized, tracing the silver midrib on the leaf-like wristbow. The blue garnet light in the veins that had been dim beneath the surface now glowed like brilliant neon stripes, and the light they gave off rippled like water.

Eragon pointed the wristbow at his new attackers as they lowered their arms from their faces. The arrow in Eragon's wristbow crackled and shifted as if it had an electrical element. Being in a position where you could down the length of a wristbow's arrow was never a good place to be, and Eragon was in a dangerous mood.

Eragon wanted to demand them to tell him what they were doing, but he was forced to shoot first. He had been practicing with his aim, but one of the Immortal Guard cut his arrow in two with their saber. Without skipping a beat, Eragon fired a second arrow as he leaped out of bed. The second arrow knocked a sword out of the hands of one Immortal Guard, and he quickly jerked aside to avoid a blade's swing.

He didn't have enough practice in combat to be able to deal with the Immortal Guard, and now there were two. The one that had been repulsed by Alfheim wasn't stirring, and Ergon was fairly certain he was dead. Eragon raised his wristbow and a saber blade slid across its surface, leaving him unharmed.

The instant the saber blade had slid away Eragon shot an arrow at the guard. He was successful in getting his opponent in the throat and Eragon's arrow went clear through his throat. His wristbow was responding to his thoughts of battle, so the arrows he was shooting were becoming more powerful.

Another blade appeared in the corner of his sight, and Eragon just barely managed to raise his wristbow in time to catch the blade on it. There was so much force behind the strike though that Eragon was thrown off his feet and crashed into the side of his bed. He fell to the floor, stunned. Through blurred vision, Eragon looked up at the Immortal Guard approaching him.

What was going on? Eragon thought desperately as he jumped to his feet and tried to run to the doorway, knowing he wasn't trained enough to stand a chance of winning. He turned around and fired a few arrows at his attackers to make them flinch back.

What cost Eragon was that he was looking forward and not behind, so he wasn't aware of the appearance of a fourth attacker and was unable to block his sword blade. Eragon's next shot went wild and harmlessly hit the wall as the sword sliced open his back. He fell forward, not comprehending that he had been hit, and as he fell the Immortal Guard who had struck him smiled.

It was Rane. He had known that Eragon would run, and so all Rane needed to do was wait the prince to come to him. Commander Daris should be finishing up with Hallien soon, Rane thought as he raised his sword in a reverse grip in preparation for a downward thrust to kill the prince. It was sad that Eragon had to die, but he was Hallien's sons and the same blood ran in his veins that it did for Hallien. He had to die to, and it was only if Eragon died as well as his father that Daris could become king. Daris was the only royal without Hallien's blood, and the only one that could lead Alfhiem.

Why are they attacking me? Eragon thought desperately. I'm their prince, so why are they trying to kill me?

Rane brought his sword down.

* * *

Sitting on one of the branches of Alfheim's giant trees, Tilaria raised her head. She wasn't aware of what was happening to her brother at the palace, but she could feel the blood in the air. Someone was using blood magic, and a lot of it.

Tilaria stood on the branch and closed her eyes. She focused her thoughts and turned towards the source of the scent. There were no major cities in the direction she was left facing so she curiously hopped from one branch to another up the tree without using her hands, moving as easily as if she were walking up stairs. Once she reached the upper branches, she walked out to the end of one branch. From her new perch she could see above the canopy, and she saw something as she looked in the direction of the scent. There was something else rising above the canopy, and circling around it were black storm clouds that were feeding off the blood.

"Lome Elen," Tilaria whispered and looked at the mountain that rose above the canopy seriously.

Lome Elen was where Anar's base had been, and where Daris had told her to meet him tomorrow night. Wary suddenly, Tilaria narrowed her eyes. It seemed that Daris was up to something after all.

She hoped down below the canopy to her previous perch, and then began to jump from branch to branch, tree to tree, as she moved through the forest in the direction of the mountain. Although she was covering huge a huge distance with every jump there was no visible effort on her part. All Ljósálfr could travel through the forest like this, and she began to use her magic to lengthen her jumps and her speed. From time to time she teleported herself several acres forward.

Something was happening at Lome Elen, and she was certain that Daris was involved. She didn't know what was going on yet, but she wanted to and so she was going to find out.

* * *

**Eragon is a very special child because as you just saw he has a unbelievable connection to Alfheim. Despite knowing that it will weaken its own lifeforce the realm will still protect Eragon as well as it can. He's one of the only people who the realms will allow him to use true magic with.**

**Hallien, if not Eragon, might be getting some reinforcements soon. Tilaria is moving through the forest like a shinobi from _Naruto_, that's how most Light Elves travel when they don't teleport or use portal gates.**


	12. His Sin

Hallien looked down at the magic circle he was standing in, and felt ill when he recognized the blood-drawn circle. It was the same design he had used when he had killed Anar and almost killed Alfheim when he had corrupted the Emerald Crown. Daris must enjoy the irony tremendously to be trying to kill Hallien in the same way and place that Hallien had killed his father.

He pulled the trigger, already feeling his limbs become heavy from the song of the blood. The shot of electrified plasma shot towards Daris, but Daris merely smiled .Without any effort on his part, streamers of red-black magic shot up from the drawn lines and harmlessly absorbed the shot before it got close to Daris. Hallien was afraid of that would happen.

Daris chuckled and held out a hand. Hallien couldn't stop Daris from telekinetically yanking the disruptor from his hand and landing squarely in Daris's. Hallien thought for a second that Daris was going to shoot him with his own disruptor, but instead Daris let the disruptor fall. Even before it hit the ground it collapsed into all of the pieces of metal and the power cell in a pile of useless scrap.

Hallien didn't have time for this. He needed to get back to the palace and help his son. The only way to leave the magic circle though was to kill Daris, but Hallien couldn't move anymore.

Normally, a blood mage's aura made those near it who were not blood mages themselves flee in unnatural fear or collapse, and the more blood mages in one place the worse the effect became. The Emerald Crown enforced the seal on Hallien's blood magic that Amras had placed, but because of the seal he couldn't correctly use his blood. Hallien was a blood mage whose magic was sealed away, and his soul didn't know how to react to another blood mage's aura so although he neither collapsed nor fled, he was still affected. His soul simply froze.

"What is the matter?" Daris asked him innocently and stepped over the pile of disruptor parts towards Hallien. "Cannot move? Amras truly scarred your soul when he sealed your blood magic away as a babe, did he not?"

Hallien raised his eyes without moving his head, and Daris smiled.

"My father told me Amras did that to you," Daris explained with a shrug. "A Ljósálfr cannot be born a blood mage as you were, our Elder God made it impossible, and yet you were. You killed your mother when you were born. You were stillborn, and yet when your mother died, you woke up. A life for a life, born in blood. That's why you shouldn't be Alfheim's king, for I know who you really are."

Behind them, the last two Immortal Guards, one of them loyal to Daris and the other loyal to Hallien, fell.

"Oh?" Daris mused. "They killed each other."

Blood from the three slain Immortal Guard flowed over to Daris and into the magic circle. Daris smiled as the blood magic infused itself with him, and he suddenly flicked his hand casually towards Hallien. The strike was the killing aura expanded just as Tilaria had done during the trial and it should have rend flesh from bone, but because of the Emerald Crown Hallien was only thrown back. With a smile, Daris pinned him to the side of the circle's barrier, and the force when Hallien's head hit the barrier knocked the Emerald Crown off. It fell to the ground with a sound like clinking diamonds.

Daris picked it up casually, and held it to the clouds to inspect it. Hallien knew that Daris was not king and that his blood magic could not kill the crown or Alfheim, so he did not panic as much as he could have. He struggled to free himself, but with the added blood from the three Immortal Guard's he found that he could not even move a finger. The only way he could fight Daris was if he freed his blood magic, but if he did that then Alfheim would…

"I suppose Eragon is already dead," Daris sighed, and his words made Hallien struggle again.

The blood magic in his soul meant that with it being affected, his entire soul and all of the magic within was frozen. Eragon couldn't be dead, Hallien thought furiously. His son was all he had left of Anastasia, and he wouldn't lose it. He couldn't move though. Only with his blood magic was he strong, and now he didn't, couldn't, have that.

"Still trying to break free?" Daris asked in amusement. "I assure you that it will not work. You are helpless without your blood magic to counter my own, more so then a non-blood mage because they at least can run."

Daris ran his fingers across the crown's sun with a smile, but did not try to put it on. As a royal it would not kill him for the attempt, but neither would it adjust its size to him and allow him to use it. It would not as long as Hallien and Eragon, the main heirs, still lived. He enjoyed the delicious murder in Hallien's ice like eyes.

"When Amras sealed your blood magic he changed your eyes to that fake blue," Daris continued and took a step closer. "I wonder Hallien, what color are your real eyes? I suppose when I kill you your father's illusion will break. Since Eragon has to be dead by now, with your death this crown will become mine. It's for the best that you die Hallien, for I know that is not your true name."

Daris knew? Hallien raised his eyes to him, having a hard time breathing since the paralysis was affecting his lungs. How did Daris know? Of course he knew Amras had sealed his blood, but how did he know the rest?

Daris tapped his fingertips against the leaves of the Emerald Crown he held in one hand as he raised his empty hand and made a motion as if grabbing the hilt of a blade. Blood from the dead Immortal Guard that had gathered near Daris flew to his hand and crystallized into a dagger with no crossguard. It looked like a hybrid material of red ice and garnet. Hallien's eyes widened in recognition of the material, and Daris smiled. He held the blade flat in his palm and extended it closer to Hallien.

"You know this, hmm?" Daris chuckled, "blood crystal. A high level skill only an arch blood mage can create. I remember metal weapons always disgusted you. I suppose that's because you would rather use blood crystal, but knew you could not use it in front of the other elves."

Daris curled his fingers around the blood crystal dagger and held it in a reverse grip up to Hallien's throat. If Eragon was dead and Hallien died then Daris would become Alfheim's king. His blood magic was wild and uncontrolled, and if Daris the crown would be corrupted. Alfheim's lifeforce had been cracked the last time the Emerald Crown had become corrupted, and if the attack was repeated it could be worse. The lifeforce of Alfheim could shatter, and if that happened then Alfheim would die as Svartalfheim had.

"After I become king I can only imagine what Tilaria will do," Daris chuckled. "She will be furious for Eragon's murder, but I can use the Emerald Crown's power to kill her easily. Her usefulness ended long ago. Now, let us see what color your eyes are."

Daris smiled and set the dagger's blade on Hallien's throat. He was going to kill Alfheim!

* * *

Yes, Crow agreed with a smile as he watched over the events of Alfheim from his domain. His newest pawn was going to kill Alfheim just as planned. He loved it when a good plan worked without a hitch, and best of all, Daris was about to kill Crow's brother for him.

* * *

There was a shadow overhead where Daris and Hallien were, and it grew larger as it fell. Daris noticed the shadow and looked up curiously. He jumped back from Hallien suddenly as the shadow crashed onto the magic circle's barrier and shattered it as if it were merely a glass window.

Hallien, freed from the paralysis, dropped to the ground on his hands and knees. He was breathing hard as his lungs and heart has been partially paralyzed along with his limbs and the shock of them being able to work was impressive. The shadow who had broken through Daris's barrier raised her fists and fell into a fighting stance in front of Hallien with a serious expression.

Hallien looked up in shock to see Tilaria standing between him and Daris. "You?"

"Shut up," Tilaria ordered Hallien even though he was the king.

Her venom only partially surprised Hallien as he stood.

"Hello my dear," Daris greeted with a smile as if pleased to see her. "I was not expecting to see you until tomorrow."

"I felt the blood magic building," Tilaria shrugged without relaxing her stance.

"Clever girl," Daris chuckled. "I should have guessed as much. Do step aside my dear and let me kill Hallien."

Tilaria relaxed her stance and Hallien watched her warily, but was surprised when she shook her head.

"I'm not gullible enough to fall for your '_my dear_' line twice Daris," Tilaria promised sadly. "I've been up on the second floor listening to you for a while now. I thought you said you had no use for me anymore and so were going to kill me like you plan to do to my brother?"

Tilaria's voice was calm and clear, and almost amused somehow. Daris's smile slowly faded, and he tightened his grip on the Emerald Crown. His features began to darken as Tilaria kept speaking.

"Pardon me if I don't trust you anymore," Tilaria shrugged, "but it seems I no longer have a use for your false love Daris. I'm not just your tool, and I won't let you become king. Like Hallien said, if you become king this deep in a blood rush you'll destroy Alfheim's lifeforce. My feud is with Hallien, not the entire planet."

"You have no idea what you are defending," Daris snarled softly. "I am the true heir to Alfhiem, not the one who stands behind you. Do you know what he is?"

"Alfhiem's rightful king," Tilaria said assuredly as if that answered everything and fell back into a fighting stance.

"Why are you…?" Hallien whispered in stunned surprise.

"I don't care if you live or die," Tilaria promised Hallien before he got the wrong idea. "But you're Eragon's father, and he does care. That's why I didn't kill you a century ago when I had the chance during my _assassination attempt_. You go help Eragon. I'll deal with Daris."

"You will!" Daris laughed. "Oh dear child you are a novice in blood compared to me."

"He has a point," Hallien said dryly.

"Unlike you, _King_," Tilaria slurred his title with an icy tone, "I don't use just blood magic. Eragon's still alive so go. If he was dead then Alfheim would be lamenting, just like it did a century ago when he was kidnapped by Nira and it thought he died."

Hallien didn't really think that Tilaria could defeat Daris, but right now it hardly mattered. If she died then she died. She was giving him an opening to help his son, and Hallien would not pass it up. Since he couldn't use his blood magic he'd only get in the way here.

He glanced at the Emerald Crown that Daris was still holding for a long second, and then left with a tssk. It didn't matter if Daris had it or not, for so long as Eragon or Hallien lived he could not use it. First Arlen had betrayed him, and now his cousin Daris was. What was going on with them? Why was Daris trying to betray him? How did Daris know Hallien's true identity? Had Arlen known?

Daris tried to jump after Hallien, but Tilaria used his lapse of concentration to take control of his magic circle. She had broken its barrier when she had jumped down, and now reactivated it. Red mist tainted the air, and Daris's eyes widened when he realized what she was doing.

He managed to control his jump so when he hit the barrier he was able to land on its surface feet-first and repulse backwards off of it with a neat somersault, and land on his feet within the confines of the magic circle. Daris slid backwards from the kinetic force leftover, and snarled at Tilaria. She smiled, and held out her hands as if grabbing the hilts of a blade. For an instant, Daris thought that she was materializing blood crystal blades, but then two of the fallen Immoral Guard's sabers materialized in her palms and she fell into a fighting stance.

"I forgot I taught you how to duel-wield," Daris admitted as he dropped the Emerald Crown carelessly as if it were an empty soda can and materialized another blood crystal blade.

The daggers morphed as fluid as liquid blood from small daggers to a pair of shortswords. Tilaria did not flinch back. She didn't need to win against Daris, just buy Hallien enough time to help Eragon. Realms, she wished she had known Eragon was under attack earlier for she would have just gone to the palace herself instead of all the way out here.

"Hallien is the last person you should be defending," Daris warned. "I know now what he is, and why neither he is not fit for the throne. A friend of mine explained it all to me, so now I understand. Hallien should be killed before the realms are destroyed by him. I am the rightful heir to Alfheim's throne, not Hallien."

"And why is Hallien suddenly not fit for the throne?" Tilaria challenged. "Don't say it's just because he's a true-born blood mage either."

"It is simple," Daris smiled. "Hallien is not Ljósálfr."

"What?" Tilaria asked in a befuddled tone as that tried to sink in vainly. "You'll have to explain a little more to me."

"He is a reincarnation of one of the Elder Gods," Daris explained as Crow had told him a century ago. "In fact, he is the reincarnation of the Elder God who created blood magic."

"You mean," Tilaria whispered.

"That is right," Daris said triumphantly. "Hallien is the living reincarnation of Set, the first Elder God who learned to kill and became a Fallen. Understand now why I say he's not fit for Alfheim's throne?"

Tilaria lowered her stolen sabers and looked down, removing her eyes from Daris. Hallien was Set reincarnated? Sure he was hard to get along with, but she never would have guessed that. It explained why Hallien was such a master of blood magic, because he was, as Set, the creator of blood magic.

"It is only a matter of time before Set's memories and persona that sleep within Hallien's soul awaken," Daris continued, hopeful that he could still turn Tilaria to his side for he knew she would be an asset. "When that happens the personality of Hallien will be gone, and all that will be left is Set. Set, with a new body who will be back to full strength. If Set awakens while Hallien is still Alfhiem's king, then the first thing he will do is kill Alfheim and absorb its lifeforce before going on and killing the other realms."

"There's no way Hallien is Set," Tilaria whispered as if only half-hearing Daris's words.

"He is," Daris implored. "I am telling you that he is. I am not the villain in this play Tilaria, but the hero. I am trying to _save_ Alfheim and the realms before Set awakens. The only way to do that is kill him while he is still mortal, and that means killing Hallien. If we wait for Set to awaken then he will be an immortal and it will be too late to stop him. This is why I am doing this."

"And Eragon?" Tilaria challenged. "I don't know about Hallien being Set, but what about Eragon? You want to be Alfheim's king, but you can't do it without first killing Eragon."

"Eragon is Hallien's son," Daris warned, "and that means a son of Set. If Set awakens then who knows what sort of an effect it will have on Eragon. He is a wild card, and there is no way to predict what will happen."

"So you're going to kill him," Tilaria raised her sabers again and fell into stance. "If what you're saying is about Hallien and Set is true then I understand why you are trying to kill him, but Eragon is not Set. You just want Eragon dead so you can have the power of the Emerald Crown."

"I am trying to help Alfheim by eliminating Set's bloodline," Daris argued with a feeling that Eragon was going to turn her against him.

"No," Tilaria corrected. "If you were truly trying to help Alfheim then Hallien would be your only target. You may be trying to help Alfheim, but you are also trying to help yourself to power. I won't let you kill Eragon."

* * *

Crow sighed and shook his head at Tilaria's declaration and watched as she and Daris began to fight. The sound of blood crystal on Ljósálfr mythril produced the oddest ringing sound, but Crow was disappointed.

"You are making a mistake little troublemaker," Crow warned Tilaria even though she could not hear him. "You might have stopped my pawn from achieving the Emerald Crown and avoided Alfhiem's destruction this time, but at what cost? I was not lying to Daris, for Hallien is Set and if Set awakens then it will be far more then Alfheim that will suffer. I should know what Set is capable of, after all, he was my brother."

* * *

**The mystery of Crow deepens. It's supposed to be a mystery, but some of you might already know. If you already know who he is then please don't spoil it. Crow's brother is an Elder God so it should make it obvious what he is.**

**The deceleration of Hallien being Set is not completely random. A Ljósálfr like Hallien cannot be a natural-born blood mage. The Elder God who created their race made it impossible, and yet he was. Hallien's father sealed away his blood magic because he knew what it meant. You might or might now know, but the Elder Gods created the Nine Realms and the races within them. Since the Elder Gods played such a crucial role in the realms past i don't see why they can't play a role in their future, so they do. YOu can wait for more to be revealed about them or go the marvel comics website and read about the Elder Gods yourself.**

**Set is the worst of all Elder Gods in history for he was the first to discover murder, like Cain from Christianity. He's as bad as they come so Daris is partially doing the right thing by killing Set (Hallien) before he resurrects, but he's also after the crown's power for selfish reason which is why he's out for Eragon's head to. Surprised that he has a good reason for his actions?**


	13. The Start of a Very Long Night

It truly was a pity that he was going to have to kill Eragon, Rane admitted as he stood over the prince and raised his sword in a reverse grip. He brought his sword down for a killing strike when suddenly something flashed out of the corner of his eye. Rane saw the flash just before a golden energy arrow hit his saber and knocked the hilt from his hand. The arrow dissipated, and Rane's sword fell to the floor of intertwined branches a distance from him.

He and the other surviving Immortal Guard looked in surprise at the Silver Arrow standing down the hall as she drew back her bowstring and another arrow materialized on her bow. Behind her were two more Silver Arrows, and they had arrows as well. Eragon was temporarily forgotten as the three Silver Arrows faced off against Rane and the other Immortal Guard with him.

"It looks like it was right for Alfheim to warn us," Sana said dangerously.

"Warn you," Rane demanded as he held out his hand and used some of his limited supply of magic to rematerialize his saber to his hand. "What does that mean? Alfheim is not like Jötunnheim. It is not sentient."

"Is to," Sana smirked, "especially where Eragon's safety is concerned. It knew what you were doing and woke the Silver Arrows up."

This was exactly what Rane had been worried about. The Silver Arrows were a wild card that was already becoming a pain in the neck. Eragon opened one of his eyes, but didn't stir while his injury healed itself. He shifted his glance towards his wristbow, but it had returned to sleep mood. Changing it into battle mode would give away the fact he was conscious.

"You will not shoot," Rane taunted and glanced down at Eragon at his feet. "Will you risk hurting your prince along with us?"

Rane's comment evoked a tense standoff, and Sana noticed in surprise that the floor had come to life. Small leafy vines were beginning to lower themselves from the ceiling and other wrapped themselves around the traitors' feet and ankles with a loose enough grip that they hadn't yet been felt. Was Alfheim trying to protect Eragon again, or was her prince only pretending to be unconscious? Either way she needed to keep Rane's attention off of him.

"What are you doing?" Sana demanded Rane harshly instead, and her materialized arrow glowed brighter from her intense emotion. "Why are you trying to kill the prince?"

"Those are my orders," Rane replied with a slight shrug. "In order for Daris to become Alfheim's king both his cousin and nephew have to die, so I am taking care of Eragon while he eliminates Hallien."

"K-king?" Sana stuttered, and her arrow dimmed momentarily before brightening again. "Daris is a traitor like his father Anar then. I knew Hallien should not have spared Daris's life."

"But he did," Rane smiled in an almost demented fashion, "and tonight Daris becomes king."

"Not going to happen," Sana pledged darkly, pronouncing each word carefully.

"Oh no," Rane laughed and lowered his saber down by Eragon's head, making the Silver Arrows tense. "How do you plan to stop me? You can release your arrow, but do you think they can travel fast enough to kill me before I behead your dear prince?"

Sana clenched her teeth, and Rane smiled like a happy child.

"I win," he told Sana and the Silver Arrows brightly.

That was the moment when the vines that had been growing struck. There was no warning, but suddenly the vines wrapped themselves around the traitor's and dragged them into the air. Swords fell as they were pulled into the air and held there with their arms spread to their sides in a crucified position.

"What the fel," Rane swore and struggled.

The vines had a strong enough grip that he couldn't move. His saber had been knocked from his hand by the jolt, and lay at the base of the hallway a foot below him. Rane didn't understand where this attack had come from as he struggled, but clarity dawned when Prince Eragon sat up and turned to face him.

"It might have been long enough since I last used my wristbow that I am not too good with it," Eragon admitted, "but in case you forgot I am a _druid_. The palace is inside a tree which means you are inside a tree that listens to me you moronic Æsir."

Right, Rane had forgotten about Eragon's deep connection to Alfheim's forest. He and the other one in the air continued struggling while Sana relaxed her draw on her bowstring. The arrow dissipated and she ran over to Eragon, kneeling by his side.

"Are you severely injured my prince?" She asked him, seeing the blood on the back of his tunic.

"Nothing that has not already healed on its own," Eragon told her and stood without any trouble or pain. "Thank you for stalling them for me. I fear I was caught off guard by their attack and unbalanced, easy prey."

Eragon didn't look like easy prey anymore. The fact that these were traitors trying to kill him had sunk in now, and it appeared he was going to return the favor. He brushed a hand across his wristbow to make sure it hadn't been damaged, and then glanced at Rane viciously.

"Why is uncle Daris trying to kill my father and me?" Eragon demanded Rane, looking up as he did so. "He has never wanted the crown before."

When Rane didn't answer, Eragon narrowed his eyes and the vine around Rane's right arm tightened and twisted it. Rane winced at the pain as Eragon remotely twisted his arm close to the breaking point.

"I will break it," Eragon warned. "Why are you trying to kill my family?"

Sana was a little surprised by her prince's sudden viciousness, but she couldn't blame the child for it.

"Family?" Rane laughed darkly, and Eragon had the vine relax briefly to allow him to speak. "You have no idea about Hallien do you? You are so naïve. Do you not know what he is?"

"He is the king of Alfheim," one of the Silver Arrows with Sana answered strongly.

That made Rane laugh again, and the Immortal Guard with him glanced at him curiously, now knowing what Rane was speaking of. Daris had told very few that Hallien was really Set.

"Alfheim and the Nine Realms would do themselves a favor to kill Hallien," Rane promised the Silver Arrow who had spoken in a confident and reassuring voice.

"Shut up!" Eragon ordered, and there was a snap as the vine broke Rane's arm. "My father is a good king. He gets into arguments with Tilly and he tried to hurt her with his disruptor a few days ago, but he will always protect Alfheim."

"For so long as he remains Hallien," Rane agreed, "but sooner or later his real memories will surface."

The pain didn't bother Rane as it would a human or Æsir, but his answer confused Eragon and his escort. It confused them badly enough that the Siler Arrows relaxed their pull on the bowstring finally, allowing the arrows to dissipate. That proved to be the wrong move, for behind them a fourth Silver Arrow materialized an arrow that looked like a shard of crystallized light and released it.

The crystal arrow flew through the air, and the Silver Arrows with Eragon didn't see it until its effect activated. As it was supposed to do, the crystal arrow shattered when it neared the target and dozens of pieces of shrapnel cut the vines Eragon had made. Kharis smiled at his arrow's success at freeing Rane, and drew back on the bowstring again to take care of the other Silver Arrows.

Freed, Rane dropped to the ground and grabbed his saber as he landed. One of the Silver Arrows with Sana had turned towards Kharis and unleashed several arrows at him while the other one shot at Rane.

Rane dodged it, and Sana shoved Eragon back into his room when Rane came at her. She caught his blade on her bow, and Rane was forced to disengage when he fell under attack by the other Silver Arrow. Kharis felled his current opponent with an arrow in his throat and took aim at the other Silver Arrow with Sana.

Eragon looked past the falling Silver Arrow's body to where the shot had come from and saw a gold flash as arrow flew through the air from the sniper's perch and killed the second Silver Arrow with Sana. It seemed there were traitors among the Silver Arrows as well.

_Catch him_, he ordered the palace tree. Then he reactivated his wristbow and stood. He made sure to stay inside his room where it would be difficult for the sniping archer to hit him and pointed his wristbow at Rane. Rane saw the attack and was able to dodge his shots, which irked Eragon and made him wish yet again that he had kept in practice.

Kharis was about to deal with Sana as she fought with Rane and the other Immortal Guard, an interesting combination of using her bow as a staff, agile grace to dodge blows, and shooting a few short-range arrows, when the tree suddenly wrapped a vine around his wrist and dragged him off his feet. Realizing that Ergon had seen him, Kharis sliced through the vine with his stiletto dagger on his belt and fled with his bow. Eragon had turned the palace against him, and Kharis needed to make himself scarce.

Rane tssked when he saw Kharis flee to avoid Eragon's wrath, and decided it would be best for them to disengage for now. He put his force behind a vicious blow to make her stumble back, and then fled with his companion. Sane recovered and materialized an arrow that looked like a barely-contained lightning bolt. Eragon's eyes widened when he recognized the arrow type as the area clear, and Sana released the arrow.

It flew like a lightning bolt towards her targets even as Sana fell to the ground, and hit the ground with an explosive bang. A powerful shockwave was sent out, deeply scorching the floor and damaging the hallway. As Sana thought would happen, the shockwave had enough force to push Rane and the other Immortal Guard forward off their feet.

Sana quickly got to her feet while her opponent's lost theirs and she motioned for Eragon to stay back. Using the area clear arrow was dangerous inside a building but it had been her only chance to net both her opponents, and it seemed the risk had paid off. They got to their feet quicker then she thought they would, but the Immortal Guard with Rane fell suddenly by a saber. Rane parried a second strike and jumped back as a new enemy appeared.

When Sana saw the dark gray copper-highlighted armor she assumed it was another enemy, and instinctively shot at the new Immortal Guard. The Immortal Guard saw the strike coming and flicked her sword over her shoulder so the flat of the blade caught the arrow, but she was still sent sliding backwards by the blow. Rane took advantage of the distraction and fled. Sana too aim and shot an arrow at him as she ran, but Rane sliced it with his saber without looking back before it could hit him. She tssked, and materialized another arrow to point at the interloper.

The new Immortal Guard to the field lowered her saber, and glanced up, allowing Sana to see who it was.

"Kiri?" Sana asked, surprised to see her cousin.

"Yes it is me," Kiri snapped at Sana. "What are you shooting at me for? You let him get away!"

"He might not get far," Eragon told Kiri calmly after ordering the palace tree to target Rane as well.

Sana realized that Eragon wasn't surprised to see Kiri, and looked from Kiri to Eragon. "Did you know she was there?"

"Yes," Eragon nodded and walked out of his room. "There was no ill will in her heart like there was in the other attackers, and I told her to stay there in case Rane tried to flee."

"And I may have been able to do something about him if someone had not shot me," Kiri snipped at her cousin with a death-inducing glare.

Sana shyly lowered her bow, ears turning red. It seemed that while Eragon did not have the training to handle an opponent in battle, he had still had relative control of the situation.

"Forgive me, my prince," Sana whispered.

"Forgiven," Eragon assured her. "As I said, he might not get far. I told the palace to catch both Rane and the Silver Arrow providing him with cover fire. I am certain it will catch one of them. More importantly, Rane said father was a target to. Does anyone know where he is?"

"He is not here at the palace?" Kiri asked in surprise.

"No, the palace says the Emerald Crown is not present." Eragon remembered his nightmare that had awoken him a few minutes ago. "I think uncle Daris is using blood magic, and Alfheim does not like him doing that."

"Blood magic," Kiri whispered darkly.

"Alfheim will probably direct us to the blood magic on its own, will it not?" Sana interrupted. "We can find your father like that."

"And leave Eragon alone again?" Kiri asked her cousin crossly and lowered her saber so it pointed towards the ground. "There are traitors in the guard and the archers. We have no idea which ones will protect him and which will try to kill him."

"Then do not," Eragon told the cousins.

His wristbow's arms wristbow folded up, and the brilliant ribbons of glittering light that had danced around it vanished. The veins of the leaf-like wristbow lost their brilliant blue garnet glow, and dulled so it only glowed beneath the surface.

"Do not?" Sana asked curiously. "What do you mean my prince?"

"My father is one of the greatest warriors on Alfheim," Eragon reminded Sana, "and he has the Emerald Crown. I do not know what Rane was talking about when he said Hallien's true memories, but my father will not be easily defeated. I trust that he will be safe, but I do not who else can be trusted. Father is not here, but he will return and when he does he may be attacked. We need to try and stabilize the situation here, if possible."

"What do you suggest we do my prince?" Sana asked.

Eragon thought about it. "Where is uncle Myrin? He has been friends with father almost as long as Arlen had. I doubt he is a traitor."

"We will find him first then," Sana agreed. "Either way it likely is not safe to stay here. Cousin, Kiri."

Kiri wasn't aware of Sana instantly. She remembered how gently Rane had run his fingers across her cheek only a few days ago. How could he go from that to trying to murder Eragon? Suddenly she realized that Eragon and Sana were looking at her.

"Pardon," she said softly. "We are going to look for Myrin?"

"Yes," Eragon repeated. "I know where his quarters are. Unless Alfheim has awoken him, he should still be sleeping there."

"Let us go then," Kiri said, gathering her thoughts and brushing aside the thoughts of Rane.

Eragon nodded. Kiri readied her shield and saber, and walked in front in case of an ambush. Behind her was Sana who walked with an energy arrow materialized. The prince walked between them. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

**Eragon isn't totally helpless, but he's like nine who hasn't been training at all for the past century. Yeah, it is kind of hard to defeat a druid who controls nature when you're on a world covered in forest or inside a tree.**


	14. Erve Gov

Tilaria might not have the will to form something as dangerous as blood crystal, but she was still making Daris work to keep control of his circle. It meant he had to focus on that instead of on his magic, so he wasn't able to use spells. This fight was going to be decided with blades. While Crow snarled softly at Tilaria's untimely interference and went to check to make sure Eragon was dead at least, the two of them fought.

Tilaria ducked under Daris's swing, tssking softly when he cut her shoulder. The pain was worth it for the move put her behind Daris, and she was able to slam her foot behind the traitor's knees. Something made a very satisfying snap sound and Tilaria slashed one of her sabers at him with the intent to tear his back open. Her saber rang as some of the extra blood floating in the magic circle appeared in front of her blade and crystallized. Rather than hit Daris, she hit the blood and Daris was left unharmed.

She hissed and had to jump backwards as the blood tried to strike at her as if it were a cobra. This was still Daris's magic circle, so the blood still answered to him. It didn't matter how badly she distracted him.

Daris took a few swipes at her, but was infuriated to discover that he was not able to land a hit. She was able to dance away from each blow, weaving between his strikes, hopping aside, even doing a sideways somersault over his blade without letting her hands touch the ground. He couldn't understand why he was unable to land a hit.

Certainly her preferred fighting style was duel-wielding meant that she couldn't use a shield, heavy armor, or even leave a hand empty so she could rapidly use spells. Her sabers were her only defense and her only weapon, and if she was injured then she could not effectively use them. Evasion was how she fought, but she should not be nearly this good.

Her strikes were accurate as well, but with the blood getting in the way it was impossible for her to land a hit. She was just too good Daris thought as the blood blocked her blade as it got past his guard again and the two of them hopped away from each other. How was the telepath staying a step ahead of him? His answer was in the question and he might slapped a hand over his forehead at how obvious it was if he hadn't been holding his blood crystal blades.

"How are you reading me?" Daris demanded instead, and their blades clashed as they hit each other in a blur of quick strikes.

"Finally noticed?" Tilaria asked with a smile that might be described as cheeky. "I wasn't able to read Arlen, but I can read your thoughts with my telepathy. I know what you're going to do before you do it."

As if to prove her point, she was able to sidestep and parry every blow Daris threw at her before it touched her. She had to jump back to avoid the blood as it crystallized to block a blow and then struck at her. Daris narrowed his eyes.

"I see," he said softly. "We are both blood mages so our auras are resonating on the same frequency, and since I am the one who helped teach you blood magic there is an overlap."

"Which I can take advantage of to read your moves," Tilaria finished. "Arlen wasn't a blood mage and Hallien's blood is sealed, but you a different matter."

"We are at a standoff then," Daris grumbled. "My blood gives me the ultimate defense and your telepathy the ultimate offense. They cancel out."

That suited Tilaria fine since she didn't need to defeat Daris, merely stall him long enough for Hallien to help Eragon. Suddenly she was almost dragged off her feet by the blood. Her eyes widened as the blood wrapped itself around the blades of her sabers like a snake coiling around a branch. She dropped them before the blood could also wrap around her arms and skittered back. The blood held the sabers in midair and then turned to crystal and contracted. The force of the blood crystal shattered the blade of her stolen sabers and Tilaria looked away as the useless hilts were dropped to the ground.

"Mostly anyway," Daris smiled, "Even Ljósálfr mythril is no match for blood crystal. Unless I am mistaken my dear, your technique that you're doing to read me is also taxing your stamina."

Daris was right on both points, and her breathing was starting to become ragged, sweat slicking her bangs and a few stray strands of hair to her face. Her cheeks were flushed. She tensed and drew her dagger, ready for another attack from Daris now that she had lost her primary weapon.

The blood that had destroyed her sabers sank back into the glowing lines of the circle as if becoming two-dimensional. As long as she was in Daris's magic circle she was at a severe disadvantage, and the circle was no longer swaying between Tilaria and Daris. It was fully under Daris's control again, although it didn't seem to be doing much other than providing a nest for the blood.

Daris smiled softly, "I have enjoyed sparring with you my dear, but I do have someone I need to kill."

Tilaria hesitated, unsure what he was talking about. She had stepped perilously close to one of the circle's drawn lines where the blood was nesting, and the blood now lifted from the ground and wrapped around her right leg. The blood surprised Tilaria and she tried to jump back and tear herself free, but it crystallized around her leg up to her knee and then contracted.

The sound of Tilaria's howl of pain echoed by the cracking sound as her bones were crushed and her lower leg into a pulp made Daris smile. It was the sound of blood magic at its peak. Unlike most magic, which could best be compared to a scalpel, blood magic was a hammer. It was a blunt force weapon capable of smashing through anything in its way and it was far too capable at doing that.

Tilaria fell to the ground on her side, dagger landing out of her reach. She managed to stifle another scream and tried to move her injured leg, but could feel nothing below her knee. Looking at an injury had a tendency to make a body still in shock as hers was notice the injury and make the person feel pain. The pain after an injury like that would be extreme so rather she looked up at Daris.

Daris shrugged at her, "sorry my dear but as I said you have outlived your usefulness."

"If Hallien's Set," Tilaria managed to say and then swallowed to gather strength to finish her sentence through the pain that was starting to be felt, "you've got to be Chthon. Personally, I like Set better."

Daris shook his head as Tilaria coughed up a mouthful of blood and it splattered to the ground. "You never learn do you? I suppose you are certainly your father's daughter."

Tilaria looked back up at Hallien through blurred vision. "My father?"

"That is right," Daris smiled, "you do not know your parents. Well, I would love to tell you, but as I said I am in something of a rush. Once I get done with you I will move on to Eragon and Hallien, and Alfheim's life if possible. The power of a planet, oh I truly want to have that strengthening me. You may have stopped me this time, but you won't be around to stop me again."

Another tail-like tendril of the blood wrapped itself around her right arm and Tilaria stared at it in horror, freezing.

"I was actually planning to start my coup in a month, but I had to start ahead of schedule," Daris looked down at her. "Hallien's escape will delay me and so will Eragon if he survives, but I doubt more than a few weeks. I will still be ahead of schedule. Your death will be for nothing in the end. With you gone and Hallien's blood magic sealed I will not have any trouble the next time I try to kill them."

"Asgard," Tilaria managed to say and her features clenched in pain from her leg.

"Asgard will not interfere," Daris assured her. "I am a member of Alfheim's royal family so this is an internal affair. As long as I do not take my fight to other realms or attempt to disrupt Asgard's power they won't care. They never care what happens to the other realms as long as their position of power is not threatened."

Daris was right about both Asgard and him having the chance to strike again. In order to protect someone's life you had to stop the assassin every time without fail, but the assassin only had to succeed once. He had the advantage, and without her blood magic to counter his she feared for Eragon. She had to do something to stop him here and now, for Eragon's safety. Every problem had a solution and perhaps it was the clarity of knowing what was about to happen to her, but she saw it.

Hallien's disruptor had been reduced to a pile of scrap by Daris earlier in the fight, and the scrap was still sitting there along with the disruptor's power cell. She held out a hand and magicked the power cell over to her hand as the blood crystallized around her arm. Daris crushed her arm just as badly as her leg before she could get ahold of it, and her scream echoed again.

He didn't notice the power cell had moved positions as he tssked softly. "So loud, you will hurt my ears."

Tilaria didn't manage a response through the pain this time and Daris looked a little disappointed that she didn't, although not surprised. He looked her over with a sigh, wondering if he should crush another of her limbs or kill her already. The sound of her pain was surprisingly musical to him though, so maybe he shouldn't kill her right away. It wasn't like she could do much at this point.

"As I am sure you remember," Daris mused, "the damage inflicted by blood crystal is impossible to heal and strikes at a cellular level. When blood crystal strikes it shatters itself into innumerable shards and those shards severe the nerve channels that connect the cells. Magic flows through the blood stream, but it is transferred by cells by the nerve channels. Reattaching severed nerve channels are impossible for any healing magic, and it is for this ability that blood magic is forbidden. You can never channel magic through your right arm or leg again."

A little bit of the blood danced around his fingers almost playfully.

"This is blood crystal," Daris laughed with a grin, "or Erve Gov as the Dökkálfr called it. Erve Gov in the Dökkálfr's native language of Shiväisith translated into _poison blood_. It's a fitting name for it."

Tilaria's lips moved as she tried to say something, but Daris didn't hear it.

"You will have to repeat yourself my dear," Daris told her.

Tilaria raised her head from the ground, and Daris was stunned to see that she was somehow managing a smile. She raised her left hand as she braced herself on her left elbow. A handful of golden magic crackled around it. Daris detected it was just a stun-hex, and the blood hovered around him protectively just in case. What did she think to accomplish with something as weak as a stun-hex?

"Overload," Tilaria repeated with a smile and cast her stunhex, collapsing onto the ground again.

Daris didn't comprehend what was going on until he turned towards her target. By then it was too late and the stunhex hit the Dökkálfr disruptor's power cell. For a moment the power cell looked like an innocent little gloworb. Then its power imploded to a single point, and then it exploded.

"No!" Daris howled.

Tilaria smiled as white light wiped away her vision.

When she had begun to learn blood magic, the first thing Daris had told her was the blood crystal's ability to permanently cripple the flow of lifeforce. It was a skill more like poison then a physical wound, and why it was forbidden. Another thing she had learned was a little about Dökkálfr technology.

In the distant past, before the Dark Elves made themselves extinct, they took care of what settings their disruptors were on. They did not often set them to overload, building the flow of power in an endless loop until explosion. Overloading their disruptor was dangerous, but shattering the power cell itself with a hex was even more dangerous. The large amount of volatile blood magic surrounding them amplified the explosion, for Dökkálfr and blood magic had long gone hand in hand.

The shockwave of pure light and power from the power cell shattered Daris's magic circle instantly and scattered the blood magic. A huge amount of energy was mashed into even the smallest fragment of matter, and when a disruptor overloaded the matter was converted back into energy. This time the blood gave it a little more destructive edge.

Daris took the shockwave straight to his chest, and was thrown back inside the building. He crashed through one of the support pillars and stayed where he fell, breathing ragged. His sight returned and he opened his eyes to see that the base was spinning. Although he assumed all was silent he couldn't hear anything over the ringing in his ears.

With a little trouble he managed to coax his body to sit up, and unexpectedly hacked up blood. Daris stared at the new stain on the floor in confusion and looked down at his chest. It was lacerated open and when he held out a hand to the wound he realized that his organs had been liquefied. His magic was the only thing keeping him alive and that wouldn't last long.

Blood and dust had caked itself onto Daris's otherwise neat and smudge free clothes. The blood that had been hovering around him had exploded outward onto the clearing so it looked as if a giant paintball war or water balloon fight with red paint had been fought. That girl was more insane then her father! Purposely blowing up a power cell!

There was movement and Daris looked up as he gasped to try and breathe, using his magic to oxygenize his blood stream in place of lungs. His twilight blue eyes, stained as red as the blood splattered on his clothes, widened. Standing over him was Tilaria. Her destroyed arm hung limp, and somehow she was managing to stand on her one leg. She curled her left hand as if grabbing the hilt of a blade and a saber made of blood crystallized in her palm.

Daris actually smiled at the irony as he tried to work out how to breathe and keep his blood flowing with just his magic. Tilaria had long been skilled enough, but for some reason she had simply never been able to forge a blood crystal blade. It seemed that at long last Tilaria had found the will to fabricate an Erve Gov blade.

* * *

**It is ironic that it's only after the damage Daris does to her with blood crystal that she can form a blade made out of the same. Tilaria managed to level the field pretty well. Not only has she scattered Daris's blood when she shattered his magic circle, Daris has lost most of the organs in his chest. Like he said Tilaria can't use her right arm or leg either. Daris should have just shut up and killed her, but no he had to make her realize how futile her efforts were and have her find the will to fight on. **

**If you are looking for a story where everything's sunshiney happiness and rainbows, or pure fluff, you better look elsewhere. Real life is not perfect, and usually it's pretty unfair. My stories are like real life and i am mean to my characters in more ways then one. Sorry. **


	15. Bladewing

Kharis had managed to retreat successfully and blend back into the number of Ljósálfr currently awake and running around without trouble, but Rane was having a little more difficulty. Not only had he lost sight of his target in the chaos as more and more Light Elves woke up, but the palace was still targeting him. He was just starting to hate the fact that Eragon was a druid when he crossed paths with some of his allies. Rane gave them orders to spread out, and reminded them that the plan was to kill Eragon.

That was starting to look more impossible though, Rane thought grimly. He almost ran into a group of Silver Arrows and had to duck away while slicing at the palace's leafy vines that tried to ensnare him. It seemed Eragon had only ordered Rane to be captured though and not killed, so he was able to handle the palace.

The prince was too soft, but it was lucky for Rane. Rane's smile faltered when the palace managed to trip him up and his shield fell from his grip. He scrambled back to his feet, aware of his pursuers, and reached for his shield. It wasn't where he had dropped it though, and he saw it sink beneath the leafy floor of palace.

He had no choice but to stand and run, leaving it. All right, Eragon might not be trying to kill him but he was still a nuisance. Rane tightened his grip on his saber, making a note to be careful not to drop it.

Rane couldn't fail Daris. He needed to kill Eragon, just like how Daris has likely already killed Hallien. Set's bloodline in the royal family had to be stopped, and Daris needed to become king. Where had Eragon gone?

It was quite a surprise for Rane when he finally managed to make it outside the palace and he saw Eragon. Kiri and Sana were still with him, and the three of them were in combat against some of Daris's troops. Before Rane could help his men another Ljósálfr showed up with saber and shield and promptly killed two of them, forcing the others to flee. Rane could have banged his forehead against a tree trunk when he recognized Commander Myrin of the Immortal Guard, one of Hallien's loyalists. Kiri quickly told Myrin what was going on, and Hallien's friend nodded briskly.

There was a glimmer of light from a branch in one of the surrounding trees, and an arrow from a Silver Arrow flew downward. Myrin saw the attack coming, and deflected the arrow with the flat of his blade. It shattered into glitter as it spun away harmlessly, and Kharis quickly made himself scarce to dodge Sana's retaliatory shots.

A few more of Rane's men tried to attack the prince again, but their efforts were in vain. Rane sighed, not surprised to see them fall or be forced to flee. With Myrin by Eragon's side the tide had turned against them. Was he really going to have to give the order to pull back and leave Eragon alive? It wasn't very important, Rane relented after a few seconds of hovering in place as they were already ahead of schedule. A small delay could be dealt with. The delay would give them time to finish with the jewel's repairs on Svarta, so this could work in their favor.

Rane was going to turn around to leave just in time to hear Kiri call Eragon's name. He turned back around quickly and saw that Eragon had been driven to his knees, hands pressed against his temples. There was one disadvantage to being connected to Alfheim's lifeforce, you felt its pain. The pain he felt must be from his father's death, Rane incorrectly assumed and smiled. Eragon would be no threat on his own if Hallien was dead, and they could disengage for now.

Just when Rane thought he could leave with the situation under control and began to back away, he heard someone behind him. When he whipped around he just barely managed to step to one side as an energy arrow skimmed his cheek instead of hitting his right eye. He stumbled back and raised his saber, wishing in vain he still had his shield.

He jumped backwards several meters, and did a neat backflip without using his hands to dodge another arrow. Damn Siler Arrows were more of a pain that the prince! His move had saved him, but it had also brought him into the line of sight of Eragon and his escort. This day was getting worse and worse by the moment.

"Subcommander!" A Ljósálfr shouted, and suddenly there were reinforcements around Rane.

"About time," Rane exhaled in relief.

The Silver Arrows that had ambushed Rane were thrown back suddenly. One managed to jump aside and dodge the sneak attack and the other used her bow to parry it, but a tendril of arctic-blue energy that moved like water instantly killed the third. Both of the surviving Silver Arrows looked at each other and fell into attack stance at the new opponent.

Hovering in midair about three meters off the ground was Alfheim's most wellknown warrior, and an ally of Daris. With a shrill sound similar to the edges of two swords hitting each other, the tendril shrank back to its correct shape and solidified by the elf. This elf was not using a self-flight spell, but rather expanding his soul outside of his body in the shape of flight-gifting wings. The ability was so rare it meant he was considered a gifted, highly evolved subspecies of the normal races of the nine realms: a Seraph.

The Seraph's wings, their defining trait, were shaped like six-energy like appendages currently only about as solid as water. They looked like stylized longswords with the hilts connected to a ring of light that hovered around his upper back. The ring, parallel to his back and almost touching his sleeveless tunic, was called an aureole. Only Seraphs had them. Right now as he was hovering in midair, the six swords, three on each side, pointing horizontally to either side of him.

"Merrith," Rane smiled at the Seraph's timely entrance. "You took your time."

"I can still leave terra," Merrith warned him.

Rane tssked at Merrith's arrogance, disliking the slurred name Seraphs gave to non-Seraphs.

Sana's widended as she looked at Merrith, unable to belive that of all the people to become traitors, Merrith had, a Seraph. She drew her bowstring back, and an arrow of energy materialized. Merrith's wings made of his soul were said to be invulnerable to damage, and it was said that the only thing capable of hurting a Seraph's wings was the wings of another Seraph. Unsure if she believed the story, she released her arrow at Merrith.

"I suppose you expect to do something though," Merrith sighed.

The bottom sword on the left side suddenly changed from a beam of glittering light to a water-like vine and swatted aside Sana's arrow.

"Realms," Merrith sighed, "can you not take care of anything by yourself Rane?"

"Your presence would not go astray," Rane offered, speaking calmly despite the fact that Merrith's tone indicated he was 'looking down' on Rane both literally and metaphorically.

Sana's bow lowered fractionally in surprise. It hadn't even looked like Merrith had noticed her arrow, and yet his wings had defended him. Had they moved on their own will like blood obeying a blood mage? Did that mean the stories about Seraph's were true?

Merrith glanced towards Sana in annoyance as if there was a pesky gnat buzzing around him. "You have obviously never seen a Seraph in battle before, Silver Arrow. I suppose this is the first time since Laufey's war against Asgard five centuries ago that I have spread them in combat."

Merrith looked lovingly at his wings, aware that the ability to manifest his soul into flight was only twice as common as being born with the ability to turn into an animal, and there were only half-a-dozen known Animagus. Like all Seraphs, he had born with wings instead of magic, but his wings far made up for his inability to cast spells. Since he was the only Seraph alive, there was nothing in the realms strong enough to shatter his wings.

"Bladewing," Myrin sighed, "a fitting nickname for you."

The wing that had deflected Sana's air returned to its sword-like appearance alongside the five others, and Merrith shrugged idly. As ever, Merrith instantly assumed that Myrin was jealous of his wings. Merrith wasn't altogether wrong, but he wasn't quite right either. Myrin was also worried about facing off against Bladewing, one of Alfheim's greatest warriors and the only current living Seraph.

"How could you turn against Hallien?" Myrin demanded Merrith. "During Asgard's with Jötunnheim when the Æsir demanded we send troops to help them, you led the reinforcements. Fel, you were the reinforcements!"

"And I do thank Asgard for giving me the chance to fight," Merrith interrupted Myrin smoothly. "For someone as powerful as me, life gets boring very quickly. The war against Jötunnheim was amusing and I have Laufey's wife Queen Fárbauti to thank. After all, she was a Seraph like I, and the only other one in existence besides me, though she is dead now. Although it was her husband Laufey who gave me the name Bladewing, she made it interesting."

"So you help Rane in his treason because you are bored?" Kiri shouted, surprising herself with the emotion in her voice. "How could you?"

"You are Alfheim's champion," Eragon said softly, unable to grasp that one of the most beloved of his people would betray him.

It was just like how Uncle Arlen had tried to kill Tilaria.

"I still am," Merrith assured the child strongly. "I do serve Alfheim. It is simply Hallien that I do not."

"Why not?" Eragon asked and stepped forward in front of Kiri. "Why are you and Rane turning against father?"

Merrith's appearance had shifted the battlefield in Rane's favor, and the two factions now faced off. The light from Merrith's sword-like wings illuminated the otherwise pitch darkness of the night. Eragon clenched his fingernails to his palm, and the active wristbow on his arm glowed a little brighter as his emotions intensified. At Eragon's demand, Merrith glanced at Rane. When Rane nodded, Merrith looked at the young prince.

"Because Hallien is not Ljósálfr," Merrith shrugged simply. "He is the Incarnate of Set."

Silence encompassed this small section of the battlefield as skirmishes continued around them.

"Set's Incarnate?" Myrin whispered, "Hallien is Set?"

"The first of the Elder Gods who murdered and the creator of blood magic," Rane repeated. "Myrin, I know you are old enough friends with Arlen to be aware that he has blood magic."

Kiri and Sana both looked at Myrin although Eragon tightened the fingers of his right hand to the point where he cut his palms and blood dripped onto the forest floor. Eragon knew his father had blood magic like Tilaria, she had told him that, and she told him his father's blood was a danger to Alfheim so it had been put to sleep. Neither Kiri nor Sana knew anything about Hallien having blood magic though.

"Which is exactly why he is not fit to be Alfheim's king," Merrith narrowed his arctic blue eyes that matched his wing's color. "He is Hallien for now, but only until Set's memories and personality awaken. Then, Hallien will be dead and Set will have a new body. I do not want to wait for that to happen. Once Set awakens as an immortal, he will be untouchable, so the only chance we have to stop him is to kill Set again before he awakens."

"You mean by murdering my father!" Eragon shouted. "There is no way my father is a monster like Set! You are making that up to try and give your cause reason when all you are doing is a power grab!"

"Well," Rane sighed while Eragon bristled as emotionally as an Asgardian, "I hardly expected you to understand Eragon. That pain you felt a little bit ago was probably Daris killing Hallien."

Eragon froze, and his hand that blood dripped from began trembling. He had felt the pain from Alfheim, but he didn't know why. Because he didn't know that Hallien had already pulled back from Daris and that the pain Alfheim felt was from the Erve Gov blades being used, he believed Rane. Daris had gone with Hallien to Anar's old base, and now his father was… dead?

Myrin stepped in front of Eragon sharply, and nudged the prince behind him. "I do not believe what you say about Hallien, but if he is dead then your feud is over."

"I fear not," Rane sighed and shook his head sadly. "The little prince behind you is Hallien's son, and as such Set's. Set could still use him as a host. In order to eliminate Set, Eragon has to die as well."

Eragon looked up sharply, and glanced briefly at Merrith. Merrith was still hovering there silently, not arguing with what Rane was saying. He had a somewhat impatient expression as the terras, the non-Seraph's argued.

"With Eragon and Hallien dead, Daris would be Alfheim's only heir and the next king," Myrin chuckled. "That is rather convenient, is it not?"

Rane's features darkened at the accusation he was lying. "Merrith, you wanted some entertainment. How about you see if you can kill the great commander of the Immortal Guard."

"He is not a Seraph," Merrith sighed, "but I suppose things would go astray if Eragon was not eliminated."

One of Rane's six wings suddenly glowed, and a rain of crystal shards fell from the wing. They looked like fragments of a star, trailing glittering light behind them as if they were shooting stars as they honed in on Myrin. It was a Star Storm, one of the Seraph's favorite long-range attacks. Myrin shoved Eragon back off his feet away from the attack, and leapt to one side so the homing shards would follow him. That seemed to be the cue for the fight to recommence.

* * *

**Just to reassure you, Seraphs are not going to become common. As said above, there have only been a dozen known Seraphs because it is such a rare genetic trait. That number is for the past fifteen thousand years, and accounts for all the realms since the Seraph Gene can manifest in any of the races of the Nine Realms. The only two Seraphs will be Merrith and Fárbauti, with a third mentioned in passing memories. The stories are not going to go off track with winged realmers showing up everywhere. Promise.**

**There are ways to achieve self-flight artificially. Humans achieve self-flight with planes and jets. The Dark Elves achieved it with their starships. Mages can use enchanted objects (flying carpets/Freyja's cloak of falcon feathers) to mimic Seraph's but they are nowhere near as graceful and agile in the air as a Seraph. Seraph's also have unique skills that only they can use, like the Star Storm, and others that will be mentioned.**

**Fárbauti is Laufey's consort in Norse mythology, and she's Loki's mother. Her name translates to "Cruel-Striker" and she was killed at the end of J****ötunnheim's war with Asgard although not by Merrith****.**

_***In Norse mythology, Laufey is ****actually**** Loki's female **_**mother**_** and ****Fárbauti is the **_**male father**_**, but in Marvel they made Laufey male.**_


	16. Seraph's Flight

Eragon sat up as Merrith's Star Storm curved to avoid him and went after Merrith. He closed his right hand into his fist, ringing his magic off the wristbow with the physical movement to awaken his wristbow into battle mode. Because everyone was wearing the same uniform, he didn't know whom to attack until he saw an Immortal Guard ambush Kiri. Then Eragon knew. In hindsight, it might have been better for the prince to distance himself from his enemies rather than jump into the fray since he was their target.

He used his wristbow to kill the Immortal Guard trying to strangle Kiri and smiled when he heard the whisper of the trees around him that there was another of Rane's loyalists trying to sneak up on him. Just before the Immortal Guard was close enough to strike, Eragon ducked around and slipped in behind him. Another shot with his wristbow slipped inside the Immortal Guard's armor, and Eragon hopped away as he fell to. His wristbow made this easy, far easier than using a recurve bow, spells, or a blade.

There was a presence near Eragon again, and he was too slow in moving away from the threat. Rane's saber flashed, but Kiri was suddenly between Eragon and Rane.

"Poor choice lover," Rane cooed at her.

"Not at all," Kiri countered, their blades sliding against each other until the hilts locked.

Sahrds from the Star Storm fell like missiles, and Eragon closed his eyes so dust wouldn't fly into them. He opened his eyes to see Myrin had slid in front of him and managed to lose the last of the shards. Merrith was looking after him with an impassive look, more bored then interested. One of his wings blocked a stray arrow as Myrin ran to engage the Seraph directly.

Merrith's wings were fully outstretched physically, but their light was dimmer and fluid like water instead of solid crystal then they would be if they were fully extended from his soul. When Eragon wondered why Merrith's wings weren't completely unfurled from their resting place in his soul he realized it was because he couldn't spread within the confined space below the canopy. If Merrith went above the treeline then he wouldn't be able to see his target, and Myrin wasn't a Seraph that would come to him as Fárbauti had during the Ice War. Merrith was trapped below the canopy. With his wings still partially furled in his soul, their power wasn't fully awakened.

Eragon reached out to the trees nearby to help, and they responded to his call. Merrith casually flicked one of his sword parts of his wings and a crescent shaped bolt of energy flew from the wing towards him. Myrin flattened himself onto the branch, and the Seraph's Crescent Strike scorched the bark overhead.

The fact that it didn't slice through the tree trunk and keep going to level a good part of the surrounding forest made Myrin roll his eyes. A Seraph's attack strength depended on how unfurled their wings were and how seriously they were taking the fight. Obviously, Merrith didn't consider Myrin a threat. Seraphs never took fights against terra seriously.

Myrin suddenly scrambled to his feet and leaped aside when a few of the stray shards of the Star Storm appeared. One hit the branch he had been standing on, cutting clean through it and exploding, and the other one Myrin turned in midair and swept aside with his blade so it hit a tree. The log-sized branch that had been severed fell below and forced the contestants to scatter so they wouldn't get crushed. Merrith had put a little more force behind the last Stars, so perhaps he was starting to take Myrin seriously. More likely, he was bored and wanted to wrap up the fight quickly.

That was the moment when the rest of the trees around Merrith rustled. The forest didn't like being disturbed, and it didn't like the fact that Merrith had just torn off a tree's precious branch, one of their limbs. Merrith didn't realize what was going on until the branches of nearby trees wrapped around his body, holding him by his ankles and wrists, and grabbing his wings in a handful. They weren't very gentle as most flora wasn't, and Merrith hissed in pain as they twisted its limbs. Try as they might though, the trees couldn't hurt his wings.

"Hold him!" Myrin ordered Eragon as he landed on a branch and ran towards Merrith with his saber in both hands.

The only chance he had to defeat Merrith was to get past the defensive capabilities of his wings and land a kill hit, and he could only do that if the wings wouldn't able to block Myrin's attack. He hopped from branch to branch and then leaped off a branch once near enough towards Merrith with sword raised above his should to deliver a two-handed blow. Merrith smiled, and then flexed his wings.

His wings tore through the tree's branches as if they were paper, and one of the wings struck at Merrith. The sword like wing skewered Myrin through the chest smoothly, and blood fell like rain onto Eragon and the other elves. Without needing any verbal command the wing tossed Myrin aside like a toy.

"I do love my wings," Merrith purred as Myrin was tossed towards a tree.

Sana slung her bow haphazardly over a shoulder and leaped into the air to catch Myrin. One of the trees Eragon had awakened caught them with a leafy branch so they didn't hit the tree trunk, and then gently lowered the two of them onto one of its wide branches. Branches and leaves fell as Merrith's wings freed themselves fully from the attack. The impressive corona of power excluded by Merrith's wings, even though they were still partially furled in his soul, was enough that the falling plant matter was scorched.

Merrith chuckled softly, and shook his head at Eragon. Nothing could match the sharpness or strength of a Seraph's wings but the wings of another Seraph, and a few trees were a poor substitute. A few locks of his shoulder-length wavy golden-blonde hair fell in front of his face. They partially obscured his fair skin and bird like features, and hid his right eye from sight as if it were missing.

A wing flexed and shot at Eragon as it had just attacked Myrin. Sana wasn't close enough to help, and Kiri was still fighting Rane. The wing wrapped around Eragon's left wrist and suddenly dragged him into the air, holding him so he was at eye level with Merrith's condescending smile.

Eragon fired a shot from his wristbow, but one of Merriht's wings swept in front of it and the arrow deflected harmlessly away while a second tore the wristbow off his wrist. Merrith rolled his eyes at Eragon's arrogance, amazed that a terra like him thought he could honestly hurt a Seraph. With Eragon still in the grasp of a wing, Merrith tore through the branches with his other wing and flew up above the canopy where he had room to fully unfurl his wings from his soul.

Kiri glanced sideways momentarily when she saw Merrith kidnap Eragon, and her heart started to beat a little faster in panic. Her glance cost her, and Rane smiled as he was able to slip his saber free and shift his grip into a reverse grip as he skewered her with it just above her chestplate. The strike was at the base of her throat, and went all the way to the saber hilt, blade angled down. Didn't Kiri know better than to take her eyes off her enemy?

Slowly, Kiri looked down at the saber that had hurt her and then back up at Rane, confusion lighting her eyes.

"Sorry Kiri," Rane whispered sincerely and yanked his sword free.

Kiri's eyes rolled back in her head and her legs buckled. She crumbled, turning as she fell and landing in a heap. Rane looked at her, and then at her blood as it dripped off his sword. He truly hadn't wanted to do that, but what choice had he had?

Merrith's wings illuminated the darkness of the night as he hovered above the unbroken canopy of Alfheim. All around them was a sea of green leaves, their color dulled to an eerie gray color by the night. The wing wrapped around Eragon's wrist tugged him so there was only a few feet between him and Merrith. Eragon touched the wing with a free hand to see if he could get it to let go of his arm, and instantly jerked his hand back with a yelp, fingertips blackened by its power just as the leaves had been.

"It is a pity that the prince of Alfheim is so weak," Merrith sighed while Eragon cradled his injured hand to his chest and the burns healed.

With a hand he calmly brushed the bangs that had fallen in front of his face behind his ear. His wings glowed brighter, the light clearer and stronger, as they themselves morphed from water and crystallized into light. They were fully open from his soul now, and Merrith stretched luxuriously like a cat.

"It has been too long since I have fully-stretched my wings," Merrith promised, "but I wonder… Why don't I fully free my wings from the confines of my soul?"

Merrith smiled where Eragon looked at him in confusion, and his sword-shaped wings changed again. Instead of glowing brighter and becoming more solid, they actually changed shape. Four smaller swords, in appearance miniature version of the six large sword wings about half the length and width, appeared. The smaller swords, subwings, materialized between the six large primary wings as if they were buffers. Ribbons of light twisted and twirled around Merrith's wrists and ankles and danced there, not fully wrapped and not quite touching his skin.

"Much better," Merrith sighed in relief as a miniture set of blue crystal feather wings appeared over each of his ears, pointing outward. "It has been so long since I have freed my wings to the Vertex of their power like this. If only there was someone worth fighting, but with Fárbauti gone there is not. You are hardly a threat to me."

Eragon swallowed silently when Merrith mentioned the word "Vertex." Vertex was a synonym for top, and it meant the peak of one's power. Seraphs could go into the Vertex Phase, a sort of temporary overload where their power was exponentially stronger. Merrith's power was at its peak. One of Merrith's primary wings bent itself as fluidly as if it was still made of water and set itself against Eragon's throat.

"Honestly," Merrith sighed in disappointment. "You are as weak as a human. I am tempted to drop you, but if I did, the trees would only catch you. Why do they bother saving a weakling like you I wonder?"

"There is more to tell then one's physical strength," Eragon replied, feeling pain as the wing cut into his throat as he got an idea on how to make Merrith drop him back to the trees. "The fact that you think otherwise makes you sound like an Æsir."

"Arrogant child, are you not," Merrith tilted his head at him curiously. "You make it sound as if you can threaten me."

Eragon set his features, and with a threat of "let us see," grabbed the wing holding him in place with his free hand.

Blue electricity crackled around Eragon's fingers, and then shot up Merriht's wing to his body. Merrith shrieked as the electricity tore through his nerves and the wing wrapped around Eragon's wrist dropped him. Eragon fell, but as Merrith said, the trees caught him so he landed softly on top of the canopy. He whispered thanks to the tree for catching him, and then jumped into the canopy out of sight.

Eragon was secretly amazed that what he had read was right. A Seraph's wings might be nigh invulnerable, but their unique construction of matter and energy made them natural conductors of electricity. He focused healing magic to his injured hand and wrist to repair the burns from touching the wing and jumped down through the branches until he reached the understory between the canopy and the forest floor and looked at the battle before him.

The first thing he saw was Myrin unconscious on the ground, and then he saw Sana and Rane fighting. Sana was keeping Rane at a distance with her arrows, constantly moving and firing off shots with her bow as often as she could. Rane smoothly dodged her arrows or otherwise severed them with his saber. Eragon landed on his branch beneath the canopy just in time to see Sana duck and roll to one side to avoid Rane's saber, sweeping his legs out from under him with her bow.

He rested a hand on the tree trunk he stood beside as he tried to figure out where he was needed, but the situation seemed mostly under control. Sana and Rane were some of the only combatants, the rest either dead or having run off. The tree alerted Eragon that an Immortal Guard had just stepped on its root, and Eragon saw the guard the tree was speaking of silently approaching Myrin with his saber in hand. Leaves of the tree rustled unpleasantly, not liking the aura of the Guard who had brushed against it one bit.

Eragon correctly assumed he was one of the rebels, and crouched down on the branch so he wouldn't be seen. When the rebel walked past his position, Eragon silently leaped off the branch at him. The idea was to land a solid kick feet first on his opponent's neck, delivering either a solid concussion or snapping his spine if he was lucky.

That was the idea, but at the last moment, the Immortal Guard whipped around to face Eragon and raised his saber vertically in front of his face, bracing it with his hands. Eragon's boots hit the flat of the blood, and he hovered there in midair for a moment before leaping back and landing on the ground, sliding on the dry leaves. His opponent knew he was here!

Eragon raised his right arm to use his wristbow, only to see an empty bracer and remember Merrith had torn it off his wrist. Since he had been woken up in the middle of the night and all, he didn't have a secondary weapon on him. Magic crackled around his fingers instead as he shifted to his magic and prepared to use a battlehex.

A Crescent Strike cast from one of Merrith's wings suddenly flew through the air and landed squarely between Eragon and his attacker, gouging a scorched ditch in the ground when it connected. Eragon felt the tree's pain as Merrith tore through the canopy to where Eragon was. Merrith didn't bother to retract his wings at all, and was in fact still in Vertex. His wings damaged the surrounding forest, but he didn't care enough to furl them into his soul.

He beat his wings together in front of him, and a gust of wind was thrown from them towards the fighting Ljósálfr. Leaves and smaller branches were torn off, and deep gouge marks were instantaneously cut out of the tree trunks. Eragon threw out his hands in a defensive ward, one of the few battle spells he could do, but the wave of compressed air and sound that hit it instantly shattered it, and Eragon was thrown back. He was caught by one of the trees, but the others did not have the luxury.

He ducked his head and raised his hands above him, feeling pain as the air sliced the flesh of his hand as delicate as dozens of scalpels. There was a sound similar to a crack like a firework that left Eragon's ears ringing, and he winced as it faded. Right, he had forgotten Seraphs could generate controlled sonic booms that combined wind and sound into a more dangerous form, Sonic Waves.

Eragon jumped back to the forest floor before Merrith attacked the tree he was in, and electrical lightning crackled around his fingertips again. He didn't bother with a ward, knowing that as long as Merrith was in his Vertex there was no ward strong enough to stop a hit from his whip-like wings. Vertex was a temporary state though, so all Eragon had to do was stall until he ran out of energy and devolved back to his normal state.

The crackling sound of the lightning made Merrith snarl as two of his primary wings shot at Eragon, elongating as if they were whips again. Eragon dodged the first strike, and managed to brush his electrified finger across its surface as he slid away from the second. His electricity didn't do anything, and Eragon hesitated in confusion that the attack failed, allowing one of Merrith's wings to wrap around his arm like a whip and drag him into the air again.

"Not again," Eragon hissed.

He tried to zap the wing holding him, but it was wrapped around the middle of his lower arm instead of his wrist where the electricity might be able to touch it. Eragon used his second hand to try and repeat his earlier move and touch the wing only for a second primary wing to wrap around his free arm and stop him. Sana saw Eragon get dragged into the air again, but had to hop away from as he got up, bow missing from her hands.

"That little lightshow does not work if you cannot touch my wings," Merrith scolded him. "You are not experienced enough to emit magic from your entire body, and can only channel it to your hands and feet, like most children. To be safe though, maybe I should take away those pesky hands."

Eragon's eyes widened in panic as one of the secondary wings raised itself above his exposed wrist, bobbing like a snake. He cringed and looked away as the wing came down to server his hand, but Merrith's strike was interrupted when a Ljósálfr threw bolts of lightning from his fingers at Merrith.

Merrith's secondary wing clipped the side of Eragon's left wrist as Merrith swooped away to dodge the strike and sent a Sonic Wave at the attacker. Bark was torn from the branches along the path of his sonic wave, but he did not catch the attacker. While Merrith stared hesitantly at the empty branch where the attack had come from something moved behind him, hidden from sight in the shadow of Merrith's wings.

A Ljósálfr pounced from the branch behind Merrith and his kick, the same one Eragon had done earlier, landed square on Merrith's back. Merrith's wings faltered and had to suddenly beat like a bird's to support him, forced to release Eragon. The elf who had blindsided Merrith leaped after Eragon and caught him before he landed on the ground.

Merrith's wings straightened before he lost too much altitude and he slashed one through the air. A Crescent Wave lashed out at his attacker, and the elf who had saved Eragon raised one of his hands to the Emerald Crown he wore on his brow. The Crescent Wave tore huge bites out of the tree trunks, but stopped when it hit the green-gold ward the Emerald Crown created. It forced the strike to bend unnaturally around the ward before breaking in two and striking the ground behind them, making the earth shake and leaving two smoking craters.

Eragon's eyes lit up as he cradled his left arm against his chest and was set on the ground. He knew the Emerald Crown anywhere, and the crown could mean just one elf. His guess was right, and when he looked up, he saw Hallien.

"Father," Eragon whispered and smiled, "you are alright!"

Hallien tipped his head to Eragon in agreement without looking away from Merrith, and spoke tartly at the Seraph. "You were using the full force behind your Crescent Strike that time. I suppose with you in your Vertex your power would only be stronger, but unless I am mistaken, you just tried to kill me. There seem to be a great many elves trying to kill me tonight."

Merrith's wings fluffed out as if offended, and the leaves around him began to be scorched black by the aura. He should have known better then to stay beneath the canopy. His wings put off such immense magical aura that they created blindspots that allowed his enemy to sneak up on him, just like the one Hallien had taken advantage of.

Rather than shield back in fear or look frustrated, Merrith smiled. "Well, fighting against the Emerald Crown might be a challenge. This could be as much fun as Fárbauti. What do you expect to do? Zap me with a lightshow? Our wings do not conduct electricity while we are in our Vertex state like they would otherwise. We are invulnerable in this form! No terra can hurt us!"

Perhaps his response wasn't all that unexpected since they were dealing with Merrith.

"Hallien," Rane swore and slid to a stop before he could catch Sana. "Why are you here? Where is Daris?"

Hallien glanced over his shoulder at Rane, one hand resting on Eragon's shoulder protectively, and he remarked in a somewhat immature tone, "guess."

Horror slowly painted Rane's features, and he called up to Merrith. "Merrith! Head to Lome Elen and help Daris!"

"What?" Merrith demanded. "You are joking. For the first time in five centuries, I find an opponent that might be worth my attention and you want me to disengage? Do you know how long it has been since I spread my wings in full combat?"

"Five centuries," Rane answered sarcastically, "now help Daris."

"As if terra," Merrith tssked and then dove at Hallien.

Rane clapped a hand over his forehead as one of Merrith's wings formed around his arm like a great claw and collided with Hallien's ward. The wing was stopped by the ward's strength, and there was a clash like glass on steel. Hallien raised a hand out in front of him towards Merrith, focusing the strength of his ward while he pulled Eragon closer to him.

Rane shook his head in surrender, and used the distraction Merrith provided to run up the trunk of a nearby tree and start jumping through the branches away from the battle. If Merrith wasn't going to do anything, then he needed to help Daris himself but he feared it would take too long to get to Lome Elen. He wished he was a mage who could teleport, or that he had wings like Merrith.

Merrith smiled when Rane left him alone to fight, and stabbed the rest of his wings on the surface of the ward created by the crown. There was a sound like a mirror breaking and shards flew through the air as cracks spread. The Emerald Crown was stronger than Gungnir, and Eragon's eyes widened as he clung closer to his father, amazed that one hit from the wings almost broke the crown's ward.

"Only a Seraph can defeat a Seraph," Merrith reminded Hallien, "and your magic is sealed Set."

"My name is Hallien," Hallien promised the traitor.

He watched as Merrith's wings suddenly dimmed and the subwings vanished along with the ribbons. Merrith had hit his time limit, and was shifting down from Vertex. That meant Hallien could do something more then defend and clicked his fingers, electrifying the ward Merrith's wings were on.

Merrith tried to leap back, but the electricity caught him and sent him flying through the air backwards. His wings furled inside his soul so they wouldn't be twisted under him as Merrith crashed to the ground. He rolled over and slid backwards on the forest floor, wincing. Eragon narrowed his eyes as he focused as Merrith tried to sit up. On his cue, the roots and vines from the nearby tree surged on him, and entangled themselves around Merrith.

"Not bad," Hallien complimented his son as Merrith was pinned in place.

Merrith struggled against the restraints binding his limbs and the one tight around his throat, and then smiled. "Resourceful and serendipitous as always child, but not good enough."

He unfurled his wings from within his soul again, and the blade like wings tore the plants wrapped around his chest while the ribbons appeared around his wrists and ankles as he fully opened his wings. Freed instantly, he beat his wings and shot upwards through the canopy. Hallien relaxed his grip and let the electricity he had crackling around his barrier fade away. Merrith was out of range, and he wouldn't come back until he had recovered from the exhaustion of using the Vertex.

"Father," Eragon whispered once the metallic sound of the air sliding against the surface of Merrith's wings had faded. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Hallien admitted and looked around with Eragon close to him to make sure that things were safe. "Daris and I fought at Lome Elen."

"The ruins of Anar's old base," Eragon whispered. "That place is spooky at night."

"And how would you know that?" Hallien asked and glanced down at him.

Eragon shrugged innocently, not sure how to tell his father about how his friends had dared him to go to the ruins. Hallien knelt in front of Eragon and quickly looked his son's injuries over. The bracer on his right arm was badly damaged, but it had protected him. His left arm was different, and there third degree-burns coiled around his arm, and part of Eragon's wrist had been severed, cutting off the ability to use his hand. He healed his son with the Emerald Crown quickly and then tugged him over to where Myrin and Kiri were to check on their injuries.

Sana had managed to locate her bow and was sitting by her cousin, trying to use the small ember of magic she had access to in order to speed up the healing of Kiri's wound. The thought crossed Hallien's mind that both Rane and Merrith were going to converge on Lome Elen where Tilaria was fighting Daris, and she would be in for a three-on-one fight.

He dismissed it though, and knelt by Myrin. With the crown's help, he was able to raise a hand over Myrin's chest and heal the damage Merrith had done. Eragon stayed by Myrin's side while Hallien turned and repeated the healing on Kiri. The trees whispered a warning to Eragon and he quickly scrambled to his feet and fell into a fighting stance as Ljósálfr approached.

Hallien looked away from his healing and stood, battle magic flickering around his fingers. Sana snatched up her bow and drew the string back, materializing an arrow. More Immortal Guard were here, and Hallien sighed softly that things weren't calming down. This night wasn't over yet.

* * *

**Yes, each Seraph's wings can move independently of each other and all of them will protect the Seraph from an attack. Hallien was hiding in a blindspot so he wasn't seen by the wings or Merrith, but the wings will stop an attack from connecting with the Seraph even if the Seraph themself is not aware of the danger. The situation at the palace should simmer down a little now that Hallien is back with the power of the Emerald Crown, so the only problem left is Tilaria fighting against Daris. Three-on-One are not goods odds, especially remembering that Tilaria's been injured by Daris's Erve Gov.**

_***Serendipitous: someone who takes advantage of a given situation or unexpected good luck **_


	17. Survivors

Merrith flew over the treetops rapidly, one arm wrapped around Rane's chest as he carried him towards Lome Elen.

"The ride is appreciated," Rane called up to Merrith, having been plucked from the tree branches by his Seraph ally a minute ago. "We might be too late to help Daris though."

"He has to survive," Merrith said grimly. "With Hallien Set, he is the only heir for the throne."

"Maybe if you had disengaged a little earlier he would not be in such danger," Rane warned him.

"I was enjoying myself, and I can drop you," Merrith replied in a similarly warning tone as the mountain neared.

"Drop me in the ruins and I will not mind," Rane promised as Merrith swooped downward towards what was left of Anar's base.

"What is that?" Merrith demanded first, eyesight sharpened by with Seraph magic.

Rane didn't see what he was talking about until Merrith swooped down lower, and then he gawked at the bloodstained courtyard.

"Blood," Daris whispered. "It must be from Daris's blood magic. Put me down there."

Merrith was sorely tempted to drop Daris for him ordering him around, but relented to set him down a few feet above the courtyard with the bloodstains. He didn't land himself, and flew upwards to get a view from above of what might have happened here.

There was even less of the Anar's base left standing then there had been yesterday, and it was easy to tell that there had been a battle. Scorch marks from stray spells littered the courtyard, and the lines of Daris's pre-drawn magic circle were scorched on the cobblestones. Rane saw metal parts that looked like might have been Hallien's disruptor, but couldn't tell who had won from the scene. If Hallien had managed to escape though then Daris must have lost, and it was unlikely Hallien would leave Daris alive.

Cautiously but determined to find a definite answer about Daris's fate, Rane entered the base. He curled his fingers to his palm and twisted his wrist, creating a small orb of witchlight in his hand that was colored a pale blue like his eyes. The witchlight hovered in front of him, and Rane motioned for it to fly near the floor for traces of footsteps. His search was instantly rewarded, and he knelt down to see bloody smears on the floor leading deeper into the base and drops of blood around the smears. Someone had come this way, badly injured.

Rane followed the bloody tracks, leading with his saber until he saw who had made them. He dropped his saber in shock when he saw the sight of a second battle. The first thing he saw was Tilaria lying on the ground, and the next thing was Daris sitting up against a pillar with a hand to his upper chest as he painfully tried to breathe. In Daris's other hand was a crudely made blood crystal blade.

"Daris!" Rane called out in relief and surprise as he forgot about his saber and ran over to his commander's side.

Daris raised the blood crystal blade when Rane approached, and Rane slowed and raised his hands in surrender. Not only was Daris's hand shaking, his eyes were unfocused and cloudy. There was no way he could tell it was Rane. Then Daris dropped the blade, too exhausted to hold it, and he started coughing up blood. Rane took advantage of the distraction to approach and kneel by his commander's side.

He set a hand on Daris's shoulder to help support him, and Daris leaned against him. Rane could see that Daris's chest was bloody, the cloth torn away, but he couldn't identify a source of injury from a look alone. With gentle murmuring sounds, Rane pulled Daris a little closer and raised a hand to Daris's chest to try to determine what was injured.

Now at least Rane understood how Hallien had managed to return to the palace so quickly. Tilaria must have sensed the blood magic in use and come to investigate. When she saw Daris, she engaged him for Hallien, giving the king the opportunity he needed to leave.

He heard the unique sound of a Seraph's pure energy wingbeats as Merrith dove inside, and hovered above the stained floor. Merrith found Daris and Rane easily enough, and looked between them and Daris's opponent in surprise. Reluctantly, he landed on the ground near where Tilaria was lying and ran one of his wings across her neck.

"No heartbeat," Merrith whispered and looked at the mortifying injuries to her right arm and leg, and the blood that wept from the pores of her skin all across her body.

It looked as if Daris had managed to kill her, and if the pool of blood by her left hand was any indication, he'd manage to do so just before she killed him with her own blood crystal. The blood magic in the air made Merrith's wings ruffle unpleasantly, and he looked at Tilaria's body. She was stubborn, to be able to move with injuries of that degree, but she hadn't had the strength needed to kill Daris before he killed her.

One of his wings brushed against Tilaria's temple, ruffling her bangs gently. Merrith closed his eyes as he was swept up in her last memory, able to live through it without feeling pain. _Tilaria wrapped her left hand around the air, materializing an Erve Gov saber in her hand. Sitting before her trying to breathe was Daris, and he looked up at her with an ironic smile. She stepped forward towards him dragging her right leg behind her able to walk through stubborn willpower, a strength that should never be underestimated. Merrith could tell she was dying in the memory, and Tilaria knew she was to._

_Tilaria topped walking in front of Daris and shakily raised her left hand with her blade, exhausted with strength failing. She did not hesitate to plunge the blade down towards Daris's chest, but Daris raised his free hand in defense before she could try for a fatal blow. It was not blood he used to defend himself, but sickly green-yellow power that jumped from his fingers towards her. _

_Merrith flinched as Tilaria, her reach overextended and mind groggy as it began to die, was unable to compensate for the sudden attack. Daris's strike connected, but it was weakly done and Tilaria only stumbled back a few steps. Her tunic tore under the strike, burning her chest, but she didn't notice the injury over the pain of her injured leg and arm. _

_She shook her head and fixed her stance, grip tightening on Daris. There was singular focus in her thoughts, determination that she kill him before her impending death. Daris seemed to be focusing as Tilaria slowly and unevenly limped back towards him, unable to summon the energy to move quicker. _

_"A heart for a heart," Daris promised Tilaria._

_With his free hand, Daris curled his fingers loosely to his palm and then suddenly tightened to a fist. Merrith jumped when Daris crushed her blood together, using the immense pressure to shatter Tilaria's bones and rupture her organs. _

Merrith swept his wing from Tilaria's mind, shaking. He understood how Daris had killed Tilaria, and was amazed that Merrith could do such a high-level attack. The blood Daris had used to crush Tilaria's limbs was his own blood and after her limbs had been crushed the fragments of his blood intermingled with her blood stream. Tilaria didn't have the level of training necessary to detect the blight of Daris's blood or cleanse it, something Merrith didn't doubt Daris had forgotten to teach on purpose, and when Daris gave the signal his circulated blood killed her. After she had fallen, he must have materialized another blood crystal blade as a safeguard.

What made Merrith's wings ruffle was not Daris's clever use of blood magic, but the yellow-green wispy tendrils that had struck out at Tilaria. He had never seen or felt magic like that before. It scared his wings, and his wings were a manifest of his soul. Daris's unnatural magic had scared Merrith's soul itself and that couldn't help but scare Merrith.

"Merrith!" Rane shouted suddenly and loudly.

Merrith jumped and whipped to face him, wings beginning to shimmer in preparation for an attack. He stopped when he realized he was overreacting because of Daris's bizarre magic, and that it was just Rane. Rane had a singularly desperate and shocked look though, and the sorrow in his gaze surprised Merrith.

"What is it?" Merrith asked Rane impatiently.

"They are gone," Rane whispered.

"What is gone?" Merrith repeated.

"Daris's heart," Rane murmured and looked down at Daris's chest, "and so are his lungs."

Merrith's eyes widened as he saw the true damage to Daris at last. Daris's upper chest from the base of his ribcage up had been torn open, and the reason why it looked so peculiar was that his organs were gone. It was as if they had simply been removed, all of his ribs snapped off and nothing there.

"What in Gaea?" Merrith swore and took half a step back. "How is that possible?"

"She must have done something to him," Rane said darkly, eyes sliding towards where Tilaria lie.

"She is dead," Merrith warned Rane, "so you cannot kill her."

Merrith suddenly understood Daris's words, '_a heart for a heart_.' He had meant that literally. Tilaria had destroyed his heart, so he had crushed hers.

After a second to gather his thoughts Merrith jumped, drifting over to land beside Rane and Daris lightly with the use of his wings. One of his wings brushed over Daris's empty chest, and Merrith shook his head.

"There is no healing damage like that," he warned Rane. "I cannot understand how Daris is still alive."

"He must be using his magic to circulate and oxygenate his blood," Rane murmured. "I did not even know that was possible."

"Apparently it is," Merrith mused, impressed.

"We need to take him to a safe place to recover," Rane ordered Merrith again after thinking about the situation for a few seconds. "There might not be a way to recreate his lost organs, but we might be able to do something to help stabilize this spell he is doing."

Merrith rolled his eyes when he realized he was being ordered again.

"Can you carry both of us?" Rane asked seriously.

"Yes I can," Merrith promised, "but where do you intend to go? Eragon is a Druid and Hallien still has the Emerald Crown so either of them can use the forests of Alfheim like a giant radar net. The only safe place is above the treeline, but we cannot stay here."

"I know another place," Rane promised him.

"I cannot fly all the way to your hidden jewel on Svartalfheim," Merrith warned.

Rane nodded that he knew. "We could not do that. Hallien will notice if we open a portal gate right now, and I do not want him to find out about the existence of our jewel. There is a base on Alfheim."

"Fine," Merrith sighed and helped pick up Rane in one arm and Daris in the other, grateful his wings were so strong. "It had best be nearby however, for the sun will be rising soon."

Rane was surprised by Merrith's statement and turned towards the east. Sure enough, the darkness of night was beginning to give way ever so slightly. It was too soon for the sunrise to be seen, but it would not be long before the sun did rise. The night was over, and Daris's initial strike had failed. They would have to try to kill Hallien and Eragon another day.

It shouldn't be that hard. After all, they only needed three weeks, and then their jewel would be battle-ready.

* * *

**Did you think Tilaria would beat Daris and then limp back to the palace, welcomed back by Eragon and acknowledged by Hallien? That she might stay there as an ally of the king, and things would end happily ever after. Sorry. Happily ever afters don't happen in real life, and you'll be hard-pressed to find even one in any of my stories.**


	18. Aftershock

Alyndra rubbed her cheek as the bruise on it faded, and walked briskly from one patient to another. Sublieutenant Kiri might have taken a severe hit during the battle last night, but Hallien's rushed healing had saved both her and Myrin. She checked in on Myrin now, but the Commander of the Immortal Guard still had not stirred. He would awaken when he awoke, and nothing could be done about it.

On the other hand, Kiri was just fine. Alyndra thought tartly and touched the place where the bruise had been a second ago. Kiri had just woken up, but like many who were rendered unconscious in the heat of battle, still thought she was in battle when she stirred. Warriors in that state saw fellow patients and healers as enemies they needed to be killed, and there was usually nothing to be done but to knock them out again and hope they would be a little saner when the reawoke. Unorthodox perhaps, but effective. Alyndra had simply been standing a little too close when Kiri had come around.

After Merrith had fled, the battle had mostly died down, and Daris's rebels who had been cornered had surrendered. They were now in the dungeon. Sana, the Silver Arrow who had helped protect Eragon with Kiri, had managed to find the prince's wristbow. He was in his room now mending its damage so he could use it again. Hallien was wandering around, not staying in one place, but going everywhere.

Things were tense in the palace, more so then they should be after the start of a war. This war was different from most wars though, where it was one species of the nine realms against the other. In those wars, it was easy to tell friend from foe because they were different species, but that was not the case this time.

This was a civil war and there was no way to tell friend from foe with a simple glance since their opponents were fellow Ljósálfr. To make matters worse, only some of Daris's traitors had participated in the coup. He had other followers loyal to him still among Hallien's troops and there was no way to tell who the traitors were until the traitors acted. It was the worst-case scenario, and Hallien was busy trying to keep things under control so the situation did not dissolve into a witch-hunt for the remaining traitors.

On top of that, Merrith's words were being repeated around Alfheim. Hallien was the Incarnate of Set, the first Fallen. Set was Hallien and Hallien was just one of Set's personas. Eventually Set's persona of Hallien would be gone and only the real Set would remain. Daris was trying to kill Hallien to prevent Set from returning as he inevitably would. If what Daris said was true then he was the hero and Hallien the villain who needed to die.

Alyndra didn't believe Hallien was a form Set had temporarily taken while he regained his power, and nurtured a new body to live in. Whatever the truth was, Alyndra knew that accusations like that would never fade. The future was going to be very difficult.

Alyndra was more right then she thought she was, and Hallien walked calmly up the spiraling steps of the palace at the core of the tree that led from floor to floor. Eragon's room was ahead, and for one of the first times Hallien found was reluctant to see his son. His son needed to hear the most recent news about last night's attack, and it was best he heard it straight from Hallien instead of second-hand.

Sana and the other Silver Arrows he had sent to scout Lome Elen had just returned with a report of what had happened after Hallien had disengaged from Daris. Besides the obvious signs of battle at the ruins, there had been little enough to find except one body. The body had been Tilaria's, and the cause of death was Daris's blood magic. There had been no sign of Daris though, so it was presumed he had escaped just as Rane and Merrith had. Hallien could already guess how Eragon would take the news of his sister's death, and he was loathe to tell him.

Eragon's closed door of woven leafy branches was crisscrossed with leafless briars that prevented it from being open. They had impressive thorns that looked like were made of clear glass. Normally the briars were Eragon's way of saying he didn't want to be disturbed, but this time they had been placed with the Emerald Crown's power. Obediently, the briars parted at Hallien's approach with a crystalline ringing sound and Hallien slipped inside Eragon's room.

It was dim inside, and Hallien smiled softly when he saw Eragon sprawled on his bed sound asleep. His wristbow was sitting on his nightstand, and Hallien noticed that it was repaired. Either the chaos of last night had finally caught up to Eragon, or he had worn himself else fixing the wristbow. Likely, it was a combination of both.

Hallien was still troubled though as he ran his fingers across the surface of Eragon's wristbow. Eragon had great potential, but he had never seen a reason to seriously train in combat, be it magical or melee. Because he hadn't, he had minimal stamina and strength. Magic was like any muscle, and it required practice to strengthen.

Hallien reached up and took off the Emerald Crown. He titled it to look at golden sun that normally rested on his brow quietly. The Emerald Crown was a beautiful thing, with the circlet made of interlinking emerald leaves embellished with copper-gold and the sun at the heart of amber and topaz. He was reminded of the time when Arlen had stolen it for Hallien to try on as children and it had ended up falling in the river. They had chased after it, watching the light reflect off the sun as it stayed just out of reach as if Alfheim was teasing them for stealing it, which it might have been.

What might have happened if they hadn't managed to catch up to the waterfall had been daunting, and he thought again how close he had come to losing something precious as he looked from the crown to where his son slept. If he had been even a few seconds later Eragon would have lost a hand, and Merrith would have gone on to kill him. The only reason Hallien had been able to arrive in time was that Tilaria had interfered in his fight with Daris. It was only because of her, for he had been too weak to do anything helpful with his blood magic sealed away. Was he truly so dependent on Set's power that echoed in his soul?

For this crown, Eragon had been targeted and the peace on Alfheim lost. Things would never return to the way they were, for there would always be some possibility that one of Daris's sleeper agents had not activated and was still feeding the traitor information. It didn't matter how much time passed. That possibility would never go away. Worse, Daris had gone and exposed the fact Hallien was Set. He tightened his grip on the crown, and felt a sudden urge to throw it into the river.

Eragon stirred on his bed, and Hallien drew himself from staring at the crown and smiled as his son opened his eyes. The young prince looked surprised to see his father there, but sat up with a smile.

"Hello father," he greeted him.

Even now, Eragon smiled. Hallien was almost jealous of his son.

"Awake at last?" Hallien asked him.

Eragon's silver-blonde locks bobbed as he shook his head yes, and then stretched luxuriously. Hallien set the Emerald Crown on Eragon's nightstand instead of putting it back on his brow, and picked up the wristbow. His son accepted the weapon with another smile and locked it onto his wristbow. He flexed his fingers and then curled it into a fist, bringing the wristbow into battlemode. Any damage it had suffered by Merrith's wing appeared to be gone.

"Eragon," Hallien asked softly as Eragon returned the wristbow to sleepmode. "Where is your saber?"

Eragon made a face as if he had tasted something bad and looked away. "I hate that thing."

"You need to have a secondary weapon," Hallien promised him. "In case your wristbow is damaged again. Your magic is neither tuned nor trained for combat, so it does not count as your secondary before you say otherwise."

Eragon had been going to say something along that line, but quieted now and crossed his arms over his chest. Clearly, Hallien's guess about what Eragon was going to say had been correct. He tightened a hand into his fist and remembered seeing Merrith hold Eragon in the air with one wing as the second came arching down to his wrist.

"Eragon," Hallien sighed. "Surely you can understand the need for you to be armed."

"Because we are at war?" Eragon asked without looking back to his father, speaking in a serious voice. "I know, but I cannot use a saber effectively. All it will do is get in my way and slow me down. My wristbow is the only weapon I am well-trained in."

Hallien cringed when Eragon said the word _war_, knowing that it was an accurate description.

"Where is Tilaria?" Eragon asked unexpectedly, startling Hallien again.

"Tilaria?" He repeated.

Eragon nodded and looked down at the surface of his wristbow. "The palace told me about the scouting party you sent to Anar's old base, and that last night Tilaria fought Daris so you could come help me. I was asleep, so I missed the scout's report when they returned."

Hallien counted that as fortunate, and cursed to himself at the same time. He had forgotten about Eragon's druidic magic. Now that the subject had been reached, Hallien found he wasn't sure what to tell Eragon. What should he say?

"Father," Eragon verbally prodded. "I know you do not like her, but are you really making her stay out in the forest? You should let her come to the palace. She is strong, a combat mage instead of support like me, and she can be trusted."

Hallien felt the temptation to apologize about leaving Tilaria out in the forest, but he couldn't lie like that. Word had spread, and Eragon would hear about Tilaria's fate eventually. Be it firsthand or through the tree's whispers, Eragon would find out.

When Hallien hesitated in his response, Eragon's light smile faded and he rested his hand on the surface of his wristbow. "Is she all right father?"

Hallien couldn't find the words to explain why Tilaria wasn't present and bickering with him about something or keeping an eye on Eragon.

"I know you do not like her for her blood being mixed," Eragon said in a dangerously soft voice and tightened his grip on the wristbow. "She helped us though, helped you so you could help me. Only blood can counter blood, and since you cannot freely use your magic she is the only blood mage who can handle Daris."

"She is not strong enough to beat Daris in battle," Hallien finally said softly.

Hallien's wording made Eragon sit up straight and demand. "What do you mean? Where is she?"

"Niflheim," Hallien whispered hoarsely, voice cracking halfway through the word.

Eragon sat there in shock as that sank in, and Hallien reached forward and ruffled Eragon's hair slowly to try to calm him. For a few seconds, Eragon let him, and then he leaned back, breaking Hallien's contact with him.

"Niflheim," Eragon repeated with trembling eyes. "How can she be on Niflheim? The only ones that go to Hel's realm are the dead. She is not dead. She cannot be."

"I could not fight Daris with my tie to the Emerald Crown without endangering Alfheim, but she could." Hallien explained. "She broke the barrier Daris had trapped me in, and told me to go help you. I-I left as she bid."

He leaned forward to run his fingers through Eragon's soft fur-like hair again, but Eragon slapped his hand away. A loud crack echoed from his slap, and it made the leaves of the lightvine shiver.

"Do not," Eragon warned his father. "Do not dare."

"Eragon," Hallien sighed.

Eragon tightened his hand into a fist, telepathically waking up his wristbow. Hallien barely had a chance to lean back before Eragon raised the wristbow to him, now in battlemode with an arrow materialized. Silence fell, and the only sound was the soft purring hum of Eragon's arrow.

Because Hallien had left Tilaria in her fight against a superior opponent, a fight he hadn't believed she could on her own, she had died. If he hadn't left her to die in her fight against Daris, Eragon would likely be dead. He hadn't had a choice but to leave in the situation.

Eragon's arm was trembling, and it made his wristbow shake. "You knew she was not strong enough to survive her fight against Daris, but you left her anyway."

"Merrith would have killed you if I had not," Hallien tried to defend.

The arrow on Eragon's wristbow pointed at Hallien's throat glowed a little brighter in Eragon's anger.

"Life is equal father," Eragon promised him. "Maybe I only believe that because I am a druid, and am aware of the sentience of Alfheim and its forests, but that is what I believe. You should not have just left her to be executed!"

Was Eragon really going to shoot him? Hallien was not sure if he would at this point, but what would he do if Eragon let his arrow fly? Could he really fight his son?

As if the strength had suddenly left his arm, Eragon let his wristbow fall to his sheets he sat on. He looked down, clenching a handful of the fernsilk sheets in his left hand. The wristbow did not return to sleepmode.

"Get out," Eragon whispered.

"What?" Hallien asked in surprise.

"Get out," Eragon repeated in a louder voice. "Get out, get out, _get out_!"

His voice was a shriek when he said the last two words, and he raised his wristbow towards Hallien again. This time though, he shot his arrow. Hallien stepped to one side to dodge the attack, and felt the arrow clip his cheek as it shot by him and hit the wall with a zap like noise. A drop of blood slowly ran down his cheek from Eragon's arrow, and Hallien instinctively raised a hand to cast, a battlehex charging around his hand.

Eragon pointed his wristbow at him again, another arrow crackling on it. This time his arm wasn't trembling. Hallien looked at the anger and hate darkening Eragon's normally bright eyes, stunned, and slowly let the battlehex dissipate. Never had Eragon acted like this towards him. It was almost as if he wanted Hallien to fight him so he would have an excuse to shoot.

Hallien had traded Tilaria's life for Eragon's as if his was more precious, but it was. Eragon was his son, and Tilaria was just a half-breed he had adopted, a very dangerous one considering who her father was. He didn't see anything wrong with his actions, and that was the very reason why Eragon wanted to shoot him.

Although Hallien didn't understand what he had done wrong, he did not want to fight his son, and so left. The briars reappeared around Eragon's room, this time from Eragon rather than the Emerald Crown. Only once Hallien left did Eragon start shaking and lower his wristbow to his lap. At last, the arrow dissipated and it returned to sleep mode.

"Tilly," he whispered, feeling his eyes start to sting and his throat and chest start to hurt.

He clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a sob, and a tear traced down his cheek to drop onto his sheets. Hallien had let her be murdered to save him. If that was the price then Eragon wished his father hadn't shown up and stopped Merrith. Tilaria was more than an older sister to him. Since his real mother Anastasia had died before he was old enough to remember her, she had also become a mother figure. Losing her was losing both his sister and mother at once.

The lightvines in his room glowed brighter as he got out of bed to illuminate his room, and Eragon dully disengaged the lock his wristbow had on the bracer and removed it from his arm. As he turned to set it on his nightstand, his eyebrows shot up and he stared. Hallien had left in such a hurry that he had forgotten the Emerald Crown on Eragon's nightstand.

Eragon stared at his father's crown, his crown one day in the distant future, and then threw his wristbow onto his bed and snatched the crown off the nightstand in a sharp movement. The living curtain of woven leaves that covered the knothole in the palace's trunk, which served as a window, parted when he ordered it. Gripping the crown in one hand, he ran up to the window and pulled his arm behind his head.

Then he threw the Emerald Crown outside as hard as he could. It glittered as it fell.

* * *

**I think it should be obvious to everyone why Eragon was frustrated with his father and threw the Emerald Crown, his father's symbol, out the window. Gaining control of the Emerald Crown is the goal of this war because whoever wears the crown is king, so in retrospect throwing it out into the forest where anyone can come across it isn't the best idea... _*Sigh.* _Well, i guess you can say a lot of things about Eragon, but you have to admit he's got nerve.**


	19. Plan B

Merrith was curled on his side in a fernsilk hammock, sleeping peacefully in Daris's personal base. Only a few hours had passed since he had Rane had found Daris at Lome Elen with his heart and lungs missing. The only reason Merrith was allowed to sleep was because the mages allied to Daris who had followed him to the base after last night's fight had managed to stabilize his condition.

Sariandi, the highest-ranking mage working with Daris, had decided it was safe for Daris to sleep without worry that his magic would stop keeping him alive. Working with the healers and other mages, she had mended the torn skin on Daris's chest and regrown his ribcage. Although they had been able to make a new esophagus and do damage control to the rest of his body's systems that were affected, they had neither the training nor skill to recreate his missing heart and lungs.

Daris had been proclaimed stable though, and Sariandi had mused that missing his heart and lungs would make Daris even harder to defeat then before. He didn't need to breathe anymore, and had no heartbeat that would give his presence away and tear a senseline. Losing those organs also made him roughly 5.6 pounds lighter, which should allow him to move a little faster than before.

Merrith had rolled his eyes at Sariandi's sense of humor and gone to sleep in a hammock, worn out from shifting to his Vertex phase. He was deeply asleep in Daris's base, a place far away from the trees that might reveal their presence and attack them. Daris's base was inside an extinct volcano named Carad Tyela, a name that translated to _red end_. Ten thousand years ago when the volcano had been active, lava had carved out tunnels, rooms, and air vents. Rane and the others had needed to do little but fill the pre-made base with supplies.

Surrounding the volcano base was a field of black lava rock dubbed "Morlad," or black field, made ten thousand years ago. Morlad was one of the only places where Alfheim's endless canopy was broken. Merrith far preferred to be here then at the palace. Any fighting that happened here would likely happen on Morlad where there were no trees to get in Merrith's way, so he could fully unfurl his wings from his soul and fight how he wanted without bumping into branches.

Merrith's current dream he had as he snoozed was an enjoyable one from five centuries ago during Asgard's war with Jötunnheim when he had been deployed with the Æsir to help them defeat Queen Fárbauti of Jötunnheim, Laufey's wife, and a fellow Seraph. In the dream he was flying overhead as one of the many battles during that war raged, waiting for Fárbauti to appear and reinforce the Jötunn troops as she always did. Her power was what was allowing the Jötnar to continue to win battles and the war against Asgard, and if she was removed from the battlefield then Jötunnheim would not continue to win battles so effortlessly.

This was the memory of the first time he had seen Fárbauti, and Merrith had watched her approach from his perch hidden in the clouds. Cruel-Striker, as the Asgardians had dubbed Fárbauti, had beautiful wings that looked exactly like a dragonfly's wings. Instead of being organic, the edges and wing veins were made of ice, and hundreds of snowflakes swirled inside the wings instead of clear chitin. He had been surprised when he had seen her the first time as he realized that despite being a Frost Giant she was small, no taller than an Asgardian with a slim, lean build.

She was a runt, but Merrith had learned in that first fight that she was fat. Her wings were made for rapid acceleration and changing direction instead of brute strength like Merrith's. Merrith was too slow to land a hit on her, and her "Hyper Accelerated" wings complimented her close-range fighting style. It was odd for a Seraph to fight close range using handheld weapons instead of her wings, and only using her wings to fly and dodge blows.

While she fought close combat using speed, agility, a pair of shortswords Merrith did the opposite. He tended to hold hover in place, letting his wings attack and defend from afar for him. Although the absolute-defense of his six wings prevented Fárbauti from hurting him, his wings were simply too slow to land a hit on her. They balanced each other perfectly in battle, and that was what made fighting her such a thrill.

In his dream, he swooped down from the clouds at her. His wings tried to strike at hers, for a Seraph's wings were their greatest strength as well as their most crippling weakness. Their wings were their soul materialized, so what do you supposed happened if their wings were destroyed? The only thing capable of destroying a Seraph's wings was the wings of another Seraph, but if it was done then the Seraph that lost died.

He was surprised to find that she was able to shear to one side and have his strike miss. Merrith recovered from his dive, but Fárbauti had darted in front of him with her rapid wings, stunning him. It was lucky his wings defended him without his command, for he could not react quickly enough. A shrotsword of ice crystallized in her hand, and one of his wings barely had time to curl itself in front of him and stop the blade from decapitating him. There was a crystalline sound as her blade clashed with his wing, but her sword did not shatter when they connected.

Merrith saw that there were veins of glowing ice inside the sword like the veins on her wings, and he had realized that she was somehow channeling her powers as a Seraph through her ice weapons. She had used them as a medium to focus and magnify her magic while her wings kept her mobile enough to land her strikes. Although her swords would not defend her on their own, they still functioned as an extra pair of wings, meaning she had six wings as he did. They were on equal terms.

The two had flown back away from each other and Fárbauti crystallized another shortsword in her empty hand. She looked vicious, lethal and feral somehow. Her emerald-gold eyes held incredible will and an aura of magic the same color radiated from her blades as she energized their power a level further.

Strike, strike, the dance the two had gone into. Merrith hadn't thought she was a threat until a strike from one of her blades cracked one of his wings. It had been painful beyond anything Merrith had felt before, and he realized he had forgotten that her shortswords were essentially an extra pair of wings. There was no reason why they couldn't shatter his wings.

Her raven black hair fluttered in the breeze, and dark azure skin was accented by black ridges all her kin possessed although hers were shaped more like snowflakes then lines. She had smiled, revealing fangs and raised her shortswords in reverse grip to swoop in preparation to swoop in for another strike. Merrith couldn't help but laugh while he favored his injured wing. This was a challenge at last, and fun.

This battle was Merrith's final clash with Fárbauti although he didn't know it at the time, and she had lost. Shards of her left fore and hindwing had fallen from the clouds when Merrith had been able to shatter them and she had fallen as well. Merrith had only managed to destroy half of her wings though, so her wings should have regenerated and she should have returned to the battlefield, but she never again partook in the war.

Something had happened to prevent her from returning to the skies, and after the war's end she had been found dead in the ruins of a temple. The cause of death was not because of her missing wings and subsequent damage to her soul. What had killed her and what had prevented her from returning to the battlefield were still unknown to Merrith.

In the dream, Fárbauti had disengaged and lashed out with an electrified Sonic Wave. Merrith had realized the danger the electricity added, and had been forced into a steep dive to avoid being electrocuted, right where Fárbauti had been waiting for him. She was the only Seraph Merrith knew about that was a powerful mage. The only magic Seraphs were supposed to have were their wings.

Fárbauti's wings turned white as she shifted up into her Vertex form, and Merrith knew he would need the extra secondary wings to stand a chance against her increased speed so he did the same. That was the moment when something jabbed him in the side and dragged him from the dream. It was most unwelcome, and one of Merrith's wings materialized as he awoke and put itself so the tip was a few centimeters from the throat of the one who had stirred him.

Merrith's eyes focused and he rolled over in the hammock to see Sariandi standing there with Merrith's wing in a position where it could skewer her throat and sever her spine with a twitch. Sariandi stepped back away from his wingtip with a start although Rane would have barely blinked at it.

"Awake at last?" Sariandi asked him as she recovered from her shock.

Merrith tssked and retracted his wing back into his soul without sitting up. "What is it? I doubt we are under attack from your calm demeanor."

"We are not," Sariandi assured him.

"Then why did you wake me?" Merrith demanded, head resting on one arm. "Do you realize how exhausting it is for me to materialize my wings? I need at least nine hours of sleep a day, more since I used my Vertex in the last skirmish."

"You have had six hours," Sariandi informed him. "That was all Fárbauti needed to be at full strength, even after she used Vertex."

"Fárbauti was the exception to a lot of rules," Merrith grumbled. "I do not know how that trickster managed to sidestep basic laws of magic, but she did. She is the exception though. Where is Rane?"

"He returned to Taurn Tal," Sariandi relayed.

"Taurn Tal," Merrith repeated and then finally sat up straight. "The capital city where the palace and Hallien are!"  
"High City," Sariandi translated the name of the capital with a nod. "He is putting Daris's secondary plan into place."

Merrith laid back down, stretched out with his head resting on his bent arm. "What does this have to do with me? You had better have a good reason to stir me."

His threatening tone made Sariandi step back again as well she should. She was just a terra, and no threat to him. With the fall of the Elder Gods who had created Yggdrasil and the Nine Realms, Seraphs were likely the most powerful beings left. Thanks to the glory and strength of his wings, Merrith was likely the closest thing to a god that still existed.

"Daris wishes to see you," Sariandi relayed her orders. "Is that reason enough?"

Merrith huffed and reluctantly pushed himself into a sitting position again. "Very well, I will get up."

"You had best," Sariandi said haughtily and walked from the room arrogantly.

"Jealous terra," Merrith muttered under his breath as he swung his feet out of his hammock and stood.

What did Daris want though? Merrith brushed the cloth curtain at the doorway of his room aside and walked down the halls worn smooth by the lava. He remembered when he had used his wing as a medium to see Tilaria's last memory before she had died. The energy Daris had thrown at Tilaria while he had been summoning enough strength to kill her had been a sickly yellow-green, and the tendrils of its power moved like toxic gas. Never had Merrith seen or felt anything like that power, and maybe he could take advantage of this chance to ask Daris what type of magic he had used.

Orbs of witchlight hovered around the hallways and light-emitting runes were carved into the walls as well, their soft gold-white light illuminating Merrith's path. No plant life really would grow within Morland's bounds, hence the reason why the forest had not reclaimed the field of hardened lava. Druids that communicated with the forest said that the flora refused to grow there and were scared as if they knew something was going to happen. The flora never said what they were scared of though, and since nothing had happened in the past ten thousand years, Merrith wasn't too concerned.

Merrith stopped in front of a sheet of green cloth that covered a doorway, the only greenery around, and called out. "Daris? Sariandi said you wished to see me."

"Enter," Daris responded.

Merrith obediently brushed aside the curtain and entered, letting it fall behind him. Daris was sitting at a table made of carved dead wood, eating a thin broth. He waved for Merrith to enter more as he took another slow sip to test his recreated esophagus and the healing done to the rest of his body's systems. As he was ordered, Merrith came to stand near Daris, though with a slouched stance instead of at attention as any other of Daris's rebels would have done.

"Before he left, Rane told me you touched Tilaria's memories," Daris said calmly without looking up from his food as he took another sip of the broth.

Merrith wasn't expecting Daris to mention that, but went with it. "I did. Seraph wings are sensitive to electricity, and although it is most often exploited by our foes in the battlefield, the quirk has other uses. Like being able to channel the electric nerve impulses in the mind from one person back to us, thus allowing us to view their thoughts."

Daris stirred his broth thoughtfully silent. "Can you use that technique to view the thoughts of living beings?"

"No unfortunately," Merrith admitted. "Only the newly dead whose soul has not been gone long. If they have been dead too long then the memory fades, and even under perfect circumstances we can only access the last memory. While they are alive even minor other electrical impulses like their heartbeat skew what we view until it is useless."

"I was not aware Seraphs had any form of telepathy," Daris explained his curiosity, "even to such a minor degree. Your wings are remarkable."

"Self-flight spells terras make to mimic them are vastly inferior," Merrith agreed.

He realized now might be a good chance to ask Daris about the yellow-green magic, but Daris spoke first. "Did you see anything strange in Tilaria's last memory?"

"Strange?" Merrith repeated in confusion, wondering if Daris was talking about the odd magic he had used to knock her back.

"Yes," Daris repeated in a careful voice that made Merrith's wings ruffle in his soul. "Like a type of magic you had not seen before."

He was talking about the yellow-green strike after all, but his tone unsettled Merrith, and the Seraph was suddenly wary to answer truthfully. "You used your magic to turn Tilaria's blood against her and destroy her body from the inside out."

Merrith's words were false, and he spoke as if he knew nothing about the yellow-green magic.

"I heard you tell her '_a heart for a heart'_ and then kill her," Merrith continued calmly, "but that is all I saw. As I said, our wings only allow us to see the person's last memory, and even then not very well."

"Very well," Daris said and took another sip of his broth.

"Was that all you woke me up for?" Merrith asked in a cross tone when Daris quieted. "Could it not have waited until I awoke?"

"That is not the only reason," Daris assured him sharply. "I am sure you know Rane is at the capital now. Considering on how the mission goes he may need to be rescued."

"Why send your second-in-command to Hallien's home?" Merrith sighed. "Is that not a little dangerous?"

"Perhaps," Daris chuckled, "but Myrin will not act unless he receives orders from myself or someone very high in my chain of command."

At last, Merrith stood straight. "M-Myrin? He is one of your troops? I thought he was Hallien's! He was defending Eragon against me."

"As were his orders," Daris assured Merrith. "With so many of his people betraying him, Hallien will try to cling to the few he knows are loyal. Myrin's orders were to stay dark even during the strike, and pretend to be on Hallien's side. You nearly killing him with one of your wings has worked in our favor, and has solidified Hallien's misplaced trust in him."

Merrith understood. Myrin _was_ the backup plan, meant to pretend to be loyal in case the first strike went awry, as it had. Since Hallien trusted him, Myrin would now be in a perfect position to head the second strike. Because of his orders though, Myrin would only show his true loyalty and break his cover if he knew the orders were legitimate, which was why Rane himself had needed to go. It was impressive that a terra like Daris could plan so many moves ahead.

"You should have told me that Myrin was on our side," Merrith replied in an offended tone. "Had I been trying, I would have killed him."

"Seraphs are terrible at deception, no?" Daris asked with an amused smile and sideways glance at Merrith.

Merrith tensed when Daris said that as if offended at the insult, and he was, but he was also concerned that Daris had seen through his lie of not knowing about the yellow-green magic. Daris must not have because he began speaking again.

"It needed to look real," Daris concluded and looked back at his meal as he returned to his point. "You carried both Rane and I to our base here in Carad Tyela while I was unconscious. How long can you carry two?"

"As long as I want," Merrith shrugged. "A Seraph's wings are made of pure energy and soul, so they are not bound by the normal laws of physics that would limit their strength."

"Good," Daris nodded. "If Rane is discovered you will need to pull him out. Depending on the situation, you might also have to retrieve Myrin. I need you to head back to the capital now, but remain above the treeline until your interference is needed, if it is needed. If the mission is completed successfully then fly Rane back here so the forest cannot track him. I do not want him to walk through the forest and our base's location to be exposed yet."

"Fine," Merrith muttered and looked away, wishing he could have gotten more sleep to make up for the lifeforce he had used last night. "It's not like there are very many other places where the forest won't reach though. If they think about it Morland will be the first place they check."

"That is the plan," Daris said vaguely and waved a hand in dismissal similar to a shooing motion.

Merrith left after a second of hesitating, and his footsteps faded. It was obvious to Daris that the way he had dismissed Merrith had annoyed him, but that was not what concerned him. As he had said, Seraphs, excepting the trickster queen Fárbauti, who was an exception to many of the Seraph's normal limitations, were terrible at deception. Merrith was one of those who couldn't act, and Daris didn't have much doubt Merrith was aware of the special magic he had used against Tilaria.

His strike at Tilaria hadn't been very well done at all, but the spell had been cast and Merrith knew of it. This was a complication as Merrith's skills as a Seraph were invaluable and irreplaceable, but his knowledge dangerous. Daris did not want anyone to know he was dabbling in forbidden magic of Fel, a magic not used by mortals before and forbidden even among the gods.

Magic typically used three steps: gathering lifeforce, weaving it into the needed structure for the spell, and then casting. Fel magic also used those three steps, but differently. Instead of using a mage's own lifeforce to cast, it drew the lifeforce together from its surroundings or other people in the area to cast. Usually, it used the enemy's lifeforce, killing them to fuel the mage's spells. The power of Fel was made by killing innocents, both people and planets, and it was incapable of preserving life.

It was the forbidden magic created by Elder Gods and used by them fifteen thousand years ago to kill their kin to become stronger. Because of Fel magic, the Elder Gods had become Fallen demonic beings, and wiped each other out. Only nine worlds had survived and none of the Elder Gods had, leaving the realms of Yggdrasil to the mortals.

Daris's friend Crow had been teaching him Fel magic for a long time, but last night was the first time he had managed to use it on its own. It hadn't been much, and Daris had lost several important organs and had been half dead. If he could do it once though, then he knew it could do it again, even better than before. He could only get stronger.

As long as Merrith continued to prove he was useful, then having him outweighed the risks. Should that situation change, then so might Merrith's fate. No one could know Daris was using Fel. Being a Fel user was even more disastrous then being Set's Incarnate, and he would lose support very quickly if word spread he was using it.

The sooner Rane gave Myrin his orders, the sooner Hallien and Eragon could be killed. Once those two died then it wouldn't matter if everyone knew Daris was using Fel magic for by then, he would be the only heir left.

* * *

**This chapter and "Aftershock" take place at the same time, just in two different locations and two different POV's. **

**You might have noticed that when some of the characters swear in my other stories they say "Hel" or "Fel." Hel is the goddess of death, and her name isn't used as a curse much since people don't want to offend her. If you were wondering what Fel was then here it is. You can learn more about the Elder Gods and how they became Fallen on the marvel comic website since they are marvel instead of Norse, and you can learn the broadstrokes there.**

**Off topic about Fárbauti again, but she won't be mentioned as much in the next chapters as she was in this one. It's just interesting how in all the fanfictions I've read only one or two mention Loki's mother. They talk about Loki and Laufey, but it is rare to find one that mentions his other parent. **

**While I'm on this offtopic train of thought, what do my readers think of the rebooted version of "_One Month One War_" so far? I notice the number of views has gone up since i began this rewrite, but i haven't gotten a single review about it yet. What do you like or hate? What do you think about the Seraphs? Or Tilaria? How about ****Fárbauti?**** Can i please get a little feedback?**


	20. Return to the Capital

Micha laid on the floor of his cell in the lower dungeon of Alfheim, four days having passed since he had been thrown into the dungeon. Something had happened after the blonde next to him had been escorted away, but he had no idea what since he had been in the cell. Had she escaped? That guess was based on the sole fact that she hadn't been returned to her cell, but could easily be wrong as well.

Footsteps walked down the hall, two sets, and Micha sat up curiously as two Immortal Guard approached his cell. They looked tired somehow, and one of them deactivated the door to his cell. Micha stood as he knew was expected of him, and walked from his cell warily.

The guards did not bother to reactivate his cell as they started to lead him above ground, presumably to release him. Micha's eyes flickered to the cell next to his, but it was empty as he thought it was. What had happened with the girl?

Their footsteps echoed on the stone floor and halls, an alien sound to Micha. Elves lived under the canopy of the trees their whole lives and walked on the forest's leaf-strewn floor, or else on floors of woven branches or the occasional wood. Stone structures like this were hard to come across, and the lightvine that wove across the ceiling overhead was different from the normal ones as the leaves rustled overhead as they walked beneath it. There was no way to walk silently under the vine.

The few active cells they passed had Night Hairs in it, and there was not a single lock of blonde hair in sight. Micha expected as much as his escort shooed him up stone steps to the upper level of the dungeon where the "high cells" were. Blondes were the only ones that had the luxury of being in a well-lighted, comfortably warm and dry high cell.

High cells had fernsilk hammocks, desks, and sinks. The inmate could ask for books, or paper and berry-based ink to pass the time. They did not wear restrainer cuffs except under rare circumstances, and if they were worn, the cuffs were broken into two bracelets instead of binding their wrists together to give them greater comfort. Micha's stomach grumbled, reminding him that he hadn't been fed during his four-day stay in the cell. Those in a high cell got regular meals, usually twice a day, and the meals were more than bread and water.

"The girl in the cell next to me got away, did she?" Micha asked his escort with a somewhat smug smile.

One of the Immortal Guard shoved him with a sharp order to, "be quiet."

"So she did escape," Micha chuckled softly, his smile larger now.

"You have no idea," the other Immortal Guard said softly.

The soft, almost timid tone of his voice surprised Micha. Had the girl killed a few guards before she escaped, or had something else happened? Only four days had passed, so he doubted that too much could have changed.

A doorway of light appeared, and Micha squinted as he was escorted back outside. He had no idea how much he had missed the sound of rustling leaves until he heard them again. Micha looked up at the canopy, feeling himself relax as he left the lifeless underground, before he was shoved forward again.

He resumed walking, but glanced up at the canopy again. His eyes brightened to lavender in surprise when he saw the damage wrought to the layer of leaves. Although he didn't know it that damage was a reminder of Merrith's betrayal.

"What happened to the forest?" Micha asked softly as he looked around and saw more damage.

The guards didn't answer and Micha looked back down at his feet so he didn't trip over a root. Something had happened for sure, and the damage to the forest looked very fresh. There was a flash in the corner of the sight from the palace tree, and Micha glanced up to see what it was just as he tripped over a root. He landed on his stomach with an ungraceful oomph.

Getting fed up, one of the Immortal Guard grabbed Micha's collar and hoisted him into the air with one hand as if he were holding a cat by their scruff. Before anything could be said, a crown fell to the ground with a ringing chime in front of the group's feet. The guards froze, and Micha's jaw dropped when he saw it was the Emerald Crown. Everyone stared at it for a few seconds, and when nothing happened the Immortal Guard that was not holding Micha knelt down by it.

"Allain," the Immortal Guard holding Micha said softly. "Why is that here?"

Allain closed his eyes and lowered his head as he reached out with his senses to the forest around him. "The trees say everything is peaceful."

"Are you sure," the Immortal Guard repeated.

"I am the druid here," Allain reminded him.

He held out his hands and the crown levitated to the, hovering just above his cupped fingers. Micha looked up, craning his neck to try and find the source of the crown's fall. There was nothing in sight and he lowered his eyes back to the Emerald Crown.

The guards looked at each other hesitantly, and Allain spoke first. "I will take this to Commander Myrin."

Allain turned and returned to the palace as the other Ljósálfr nodded. Right in the middle of everything with Daris and the sleeper agents, Hallien had misplaced his crown? That was bad timing no matter how you looked at it.

"Hey," Micha offered to the Immortal Guard, making him look down at the burden he held. "Is it all right with ya if I walk?"

The guard dropped him and looked away, still frustrated about recent events. Micha landed on his stomach again. Allain ignored them as he walked back to the palace.

Allain walked swiftly to Myrin's office, hiding the Emerald Crown under his cloak so no one could see he had it. This would be a prime chance for a traitor to ambush him and steal the crown for Daris, and Allain didn't want that to happen. He also hoped to find Myrin before he found Hallien because he didn't want to explain to Hallien how he had come across the crown. That would get him branded a traitor for sure.

As he turned a corner and walked past the door to a storage room someone grabbed him and dragged him inside, a hand over Allain's mouth. The door closed and Allain was released. He whipped around to face his attacker, keeping the Emerald Crown hidden with one hand while drawing his dagger with the other. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough room for him to draw his saber.

When he saw who his attacker was his grip on his dagger faltered and he nearly dropped it while he stared, "Rane?"

Rane smiled at him, "hello Allain."

Allain twisted his lips into a silent snarl and stepped back into a fighting stance, leading with the hand his dagger was in. "You tried to kill my king, and Eragon. Why are you smiling?"

Rane tilted his head at Allain curiously. "I thought you sided with Daris?"

"You have no proof Hallien is Set," Allain took a breath to steady himself. "All you have are half-facts and his blood magic, and considering the Dökkálfr are our cousins I am only so surprised that a Ljósálfr has their blood magic."

"He is," Rane promised. "By the time you realize it Set will already be resurrected at full strength. We can't afford to do that. Do you have any idea what will happen if Set returns now, without any other Elder Gods to bring him down. There's no way we mortals can defeat an immortal."

Allain tssked and looked away without removing his eyes from Rane. It appeared Rane had only been dying his hair blonde because now half of it was black, and it seemed he was in the process of removing the rest of the dye. A night hair, of course the traitor was a night hair.

"Even Merrith agrees with us," Rane coaxed. "He's helping us kill a monster before it is reborn. I agree with you that Hallien has done no wrong as king, but we have to stop Set. It is unfortunate that he has to be killed and Eragon with him, but we don't have a choice. Eragon is Set's son, and Set could use his body."

Rane took a step forward and Allain raised his dagger he had begun to lower with a dangerous look.

"Do not be like that," Rane dismissed. "You are our ally."

"I was," Allain agreed, "before you started trying to kill the royal family to crown Daris."

"You shall not beat me in a fight," Rane warned Allain, "and I know you are hiding the Emerald Crown in your other hand."

Allain didn't react, but Rane knew he was right.

"Maybe not," Allain agreed, "but I will not help you or Daris as I assume he really is alive."

"Just give me the crown Allain," Rane offered and held out one hand. "I have no feud with a loyal citizen of Alfheim, only with Set."

Rane stepped forward and Allain took another step back, foot hitting the wall. He had nowhere to go, lacked the ability to defeat Rane, and couldn't get out of the door with Rane in front of him.

"Please Allain, I implore of you to aid me." Rane pleaded, palming a throwing shard in his other hand.

"You're using this half thought-out excuse to cover your coup to crown Daris," Allain argued and slashed a hand through the air.

Rane sighed to himself when he realized that there was no way for him to recruit Allain. Although Allain had agreed with him, the instant he had learned of Daris's plans to kill the royal family he had abandoned them. Allain had the Emerald Crown though, and he realized that fetching that for Daris along with passing orders to Myrin would make up for his failure to kill Eragon. He needed that crown.

Rane put a hand to his temple, the movement attracting Allain's attention. As the movement distracted him and averted his eyes, Rane threw the shard with his free hand. Allain caught the attack and deflected the shard away with his dagger. He had to bring the blade back in front of him as Rane attacked with speed, striking once more when Allain was looking at something else.

Allain dodged the first few strikes and parried a few more, the edges of their daggers sliding against each other with a shrill note that hurt their sensitive ears. For someone like Allain, a junior member of the Immortal Guard, he was exceedingly skilled. Rane was impressed with him and sad when he slipped past Allain's defense. Not only did Allain have great potential, but he was also a loyal Ljósálfr.

Allain's flower petal blue eyes widened in shock as Rane slipped past his dagger scored a direct hit on his wrist, severing his hand. The hand and dagger landed several feet away, but Alain didn't get a chance to feel the pain before Rane slashed his throat open so deep the blade raked his spin. A painless death was the least that he deserved, and Allain did not get a chance to feel pain before he fell against the wall and slowly slid down it. A trail of blood was left on the wall as he fell to the base and slumped forward, and it started to spread across the floor.

"Sorry Allain," Rane apologized and knelt by his side as the Immortal Guard's heartbeat faded.

The traitor used a touch of blood magic to erase the red stains as he picked up the Emerald Crown in one hand. He sheathed his blade and looked the crown over. It's emerald leaves were smeared in crimson, but Allain's blood was not corrupting it into its negative form where it stole life instead of sustained and protected. Hallien's blood must be the only one that could do that. Odd, but Rane suddenly realized that the negative form of the crown was similar to Fel magic. It must be because Hallien was Set and Set had created Fel.

He put the crown around his arm like an oversized bracelet and dragged Allain's body into the stack of shelves. Rane climbed to the top of the shelves, holding Allain's body with one hand, and lifted him to the top of the shelf. The body now hid behind some jars he jumped back to the floor, wishing he could do a better job of hiding the body but knowing he didn't have the time to do so.

He resettled his glamour around his body, an illusion that made him look like another Immortal Guard so he wouldn't be recognized. First he had to give Myrin his new orders, and after that he would flag down Merrith on standby and head back to the base in Morland. With any luck, Daris would get his crown by lunchtime.

* * *

Hallien sat on the surface of the Sunning Stones and watched the river flow. He felt someone approach him, but as he detected no malice he let them approach without shifting position. It was only Myrin.

"You know," Myrin said as he walked up beside Hallien with his hands in his pockets and his saber on his side, "you should not be alone right now my king considering the circumstances. Daris is not here right now, but he has many followers. You could be killed by yourself."

Hallien shrugged, but didn't make any other movements. Myrin watched him, knowing that despite Daris's orders there was no way he could kill Hallien. Even alone like this with his blood magic sealed he was too powerful. Perhaps he would be even more difficult to defeat since there wasn't anyone around so he wouldn't have to restrain himself to keep from accidently harming friend along with foe.

Myrin tried to read him, aware that having Hallien trust him was all the more important now. "No one could have foreseen Daris's betrayal."

Hallien gave a short, harsh laugh and spoke in a slightly raspy voice, "I should have. It's just what I did to him when I killed Anar. He used the same pentagram I did and the fight was in the same courtyard. Only instead of his father being targeted, it was my son. One can almost admire the irony."

"You and Eragon both survived that night," Myrin pointed out.

"We did," Hallien agreed, "but it's my fault. I wonder if I should not have left her behind. She died because I abandoned her just as I knew she would when I left."

"Who are you talking about?" Myrin asked with a curious look.

"Tilaria," Hallien said simply and leaned forward to run his fingers through the surface of the river.

Myrin gave a start and looked at Hallien in surprise. "You are worried about the half-breed that has tried to kill you how many times now?"

"She was the one shattered the pentagram and allowed me to escape to Eragon," Hallien admitted as he leaned forward a little more and idly scooped up a palm full of water.

He watched the water run down his palm and fingers and back into the river. Then he clenched his fingernails into the palm so a few drops of red blossomed on his palm and fell to the river's surface. They painted blooming red flowers as they polluted the clear river before being washed away into wisps.

He released the pressure on his palm and lowered his hand to the stone as the crescent-shaped cuts on his palm from his fingernails healed. "I know that Daris and Anar were never close, and even after Anar was killed he did not act much different than normal. He despised me for the same reason that Daris did, because I was the prince and he was not royal simply because one of our grandparents was born before the other. How did I not see this coming though…? I am a fool."

Myrin hesitated instead of responding, not used to seeing this side of Hallien. Hallien was unique in many regards. He had his blood magic, and one of his closest friends was a night hair despite the fact he was a prince, and he put up with Tilaria, not killing her despite having cause to do so multiple times for Eragon's sake. In so many ways, he was remarkable.

"They are telling the truth," Hallien said quickly and suddenly.

"Huh?" Myrin said stupidly, not having the faintest idea what he was talking about.

Hallien raised the palm he had cut towards Myrin, showing off the blood that remained on it. "I am Set."

For a moment Myrin couldn't breathe, and his heartbeat was so loud in his skull that it blocked all other noise. There was a glimmer of dark crimson light in Hallien's blue eyes, and Myrin suddenly jolted out from the shock and stepped back. He put a hand on his saber, but Hallien did not flinch away from the attack that might have come.

"It's hard to grasp," Hallien said softly and looked back down to the river. "That I'm not me. That I never was me."

He leaned forward and washed the blood from his palm, looking at the stones at the bottom of the river that were perfect for skipping. Slowly, Myrin calmed down, but he did not lower his hand from his saber. This was the perfect chance to carry out Daris's orders and strike at Hallien because Hallien wouldn't take it as a treasonous action. His saber remained sheathed against his will.

"My real name is Set," Hallien repeated. "Hallien is an aliase I used when I made myself into a mortal infant and entrusted myself to the Ljósálfr family. They would raise me, with my powers and memories sealed so I would arouse no suspicions, and when this mortal body is strong enough, I will ascend to an immortal again."

Hallien chuckled and this time Myrin did draw his saber an inch from the scabbard, but no more.

"At least," Hallien sat back on the stones away from the river. "I imagine I would say something like that once my real powers and memory return. Or Set's real powers and memory. Not that I am not Set, but I am also Hallien… ah. I can't even get my name straight. You see why I am confused. If I cannot understand who I am, how could I ever explain it?"

Myrin clicked his saber back into the scabbard but did not remove his hand from the hilt. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I thought I had better tell someone the right story," Hallien shrugged, "before the rumors spread even more uncontrollably. Although I am not sure if I just made things more confusing for you."

He turned his head towards Myrin and gave a wry smile that somehow seemed a little apologetic. Myrin hesitated, and then finally lowered his hand from his saber hilt. Hallien was one of his oldest and dearest friends, but he had just confirmed that he really was Set, Set without all of memories, but still Set. If Set was resurrected then Alfheim and the realms would have no defense against him. He needed to be stopped while his body was still mortal.

"I am sorry," Myrin apologized.

His answer confused Hallien, but Myrin couldn't bring himself to elaborate. He was sorry that he would have to kill Hallien, but if he didn't kill Hallien and he returned to being Set then everything would fall apart. Despite Daris's words, Myrin did not believe Eragon was a threat. Working with Daris was the easiest way for him to kill Hallien, but he would not let Eragon die.

When Myrin didn't elaborate he looked back over the river, and Myrin was surprised to see that Hallien's hand was shaking. He clenched his sleeveless tunic to stop the trembling, and Myrin pretended he hadn't seen it. Was Hallien scared? Hallien should be. When he went back to being Set then he could very well end up killing his family and his home, because Set had no attachments to them. would it be a mercy to kill him then?

"What a day," Hallien said softly and shook his head. "Eragon throws me out of his room and injures me with his wristbow, and now I am actually telling someone about who I really am. If I am me, or Set. Oh this is giving me a headache."

Myrin actually smiled at the scornful tone that underscored Hallien's last sentence. Something about Hallien had been bothering him, and he suddenly realized what it was.

"Hallien," Myrin asked.

"Hmm?" Hallien hummed.

"Where is your crown?" Myrin finished his question.

Hallien gave him a bizarre look and reached up to touch his brow. "What do you mean? It is right… here…"

His hand brushed though his hair instead of his touching the Emerald Crown and he froze for a moment, and then sighed. "Wondrous. I left it in Eragon's room. Considering his temperament when he shot me earlier I should retrieve it before he does something stupid."

"Wait," Myrin suddenly realized what Hallien had said. "Eragon _shot you_? _He shot you_?"

"He was in a poor mood after learning about Tilaria," Hallien repeated. "He accused me of murdering her, which I suppose I did."

Hallien stood and straightened his clothing. "Since you wish so badly to have me under escort, why do you not escort me back to the palace so I can retrieve the crown from my son?"

Without the Emerald Crown, Hallien was vulnerable, but not vulnerable enough. Myrin nodded instead and let Hallien lead the way back to the palace. He stopped walking after a few steps, and Myrin looked at him curiously, wondering why Hallien had stopped walking.

Hallien suddenly cringed and lowered his head, and Myrin took a curious step closer. Then he suddenly doubled over coughing, and Myrin stared as Hallien clapped a hand over his mouth, coughing deep and moist. Blood dripped from between his fingers, and Hallien lowered his blood-tainted hand from his lips and stared at the red stain.

"What?" He whispered.

Then he dropped to his hands and knees, coughing again. He spat up a mouthful of blood, dropping onto his elbows. Pain racked his body and made his arms shake. What was going on?

"Hallien!" Myrin called out and knelt by Hallien's side.

One hand went to his dagger, realizing that now was the perfect chance for him to kill Hallien. He hesitated though instead of drawing it, and Hallien stopped shaking. Unexpectedly, Hallien sat up on his knees and looked curiously at the ground.

"The pain's gone," Hallien whispered.

He looked at his bloody hands and then stood, wiping blood from his chin and lips. The pain was gone as if it had never existed, and once he swallowed a few times, he stopped tasting blood.

Myrin removed his hand from his dagger, the chance gone, and gave Hallien a bewildered look. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Hallien said in surprise. "It is as if I was never in pain. Do not ask what that was either. I have no idea."

He used his magic to erase the blood from his hand, and lowered his palm slowly. Actually, he did have one idea and that idea scared him.

"Come on," Hallien ordered, sounding like a king again. "I should rescue my crown from Eragon."

He started walking, and after hesitation, Myrin followed. What had that been?

* * *

**I feel sorry for Myrin right now. If he doesn't kill his best friend now to protect Alfheim, then Hallien _could_ kill it when he goes back to being Set. What would you do given the choice, and the frightening possibility of what might happen because Set's personality is nothing like Hallien's. I know the whole concept of Hallien being Set is a little confusing, but it is one of those things you might have to reread.**

**Does anyone have any ideas over what caused Hallien's sudden attack?**


	21. The Other Immortal

Many believed Niflheim was a cold and foreboding world trapped in fog, the skies perpetually blanketed in dark clouds that never let a ray of light through. It was the world of darkness, devoid of life and inhabited only be the dead. They were right about Niflheim on all counts, and Hel, sitting on her throne of bones within her hall Eljudnir, knew it.

She was rolling a fuchsia-magenta orb on the back of one hand idly, her chin resting on the back of her other that was braced on the arm of her throne. The orb was badly cracked, and Hel watched it. This was one soul she wasn't quite sure what to do with.

Hel stopped rolling the soul around suddenly and slowly raised her eyes to the open doors that led from her throne room. "Yes. What is it?"

There was a moment of hesitation from outside, and then a young Asgardian girl about five centuries old reluctantly walked into sight. "You always know when I approach."

"I keep track of the dead, Sigyn," Hel agreed, "as is my duty. You sound wary about something."

"I am," Sigyn admitted and glanced to her left as a second dead being out of Hel's immediate sight.

Despite having been killed during a Jötunn raid on Asgard a century ago, Sigyn had continued to age normally thanks to Hel. Because she had continued to age as if she was still alive, she had remained the same age as the other Asgardian children. Namely Prince Loki, whom Sigyn had had a serious crush on before her death.

"One of the new Valhalla Einherjar is acting up," Sigyn admitted. "He won't listen to the Valkyries, and wanted to speak to you directly."

"Allain Folwinson of Alfheim, a junior Immortal Guard member," Hel called out loudly. "You have been causing a hassle, and you've barely been here for six hours. What do you want?"

Sigyn took a step back as Allain walked into Hel's sight with a defiant look. His armor had been temporarily disintegrated as he was not in a combat situation, but he still had his saber. Allain didn't falter as he walked up to Hel's throne, a respectable feat.

Hel tipped her head that Sigyn could leave, and the Æsir girl curtsied to her and then walked away. Once Sigyn's steps faded, Hel turned her full attention to Allain. She knew she had to be a fearsome sight. Not only was she still cradling a soul in one hand sitting on her throne, she was half-dead. The entire left half of her body was decayed flesh and bone, although her right side held fair beauty that was very pleasant to the eye.

There was no doubt her piebald appearance of dead and alive was unnerving Allain, but he did not waver. "Goddess Hel. You know of the situation on Alfheim I presume."

"How could I not," Hel said indifferently and rolled the soul in the palm of her hand. "There have been so many dead from there recently, like you."

"Send me back," Allain demanded disrespectfully.

Hel looked up at him dangerously, and suddenly Allain was slammed to the ground flat on his stomach, limbs sprawled out around him. He gasped and tried to move, but Hel had him pinned. She looked back at the soul without releasing Allain.

"Do not underestimate me mortal," she scolded him darkly. "Although I have lost my body and most of my powers I am still an immortal, and I am still an Elder God. I keep watch over the dead and rule the world the dead are present on. My Valkyries take the souls of great warriors who have fallen in battle and bring them to Valhalla. There they, like you, become Einherjar – the "once warriors" who make up the most powerful army in existence. It is a poor idea for a living being to challenge me, let alone for the dead to challenge the Goddess of the Dead."

Allain could barely twitch his fingers from the pressure he was under. It felt like there were several atmospheres piled on top of him, and he eventually stopped struggling. Hel wondered why everyone addressed her with such insolence.

"I have no obligation to help Alfheim stop its current civil war," Hel promised.

It was thanks to the mortals that she had lost her body and was unable to touch or feel anything, nothing more than a ghost for all eternity. Despite them being the cause of her pain, they still had the audacity to try and order her around – mere mortals who did not have the power of that bitch Gaea whom had bound her to this world and to maintaining the Nine Realm's afterlife.

"Please," Allain said, and his humble tone surprised Hel. "I have to warn Hallien that Rane has invaded the city and about his crown."

"You are dead," Hel reminded him, "and bringing someone back to life is not something I will do lightly. Let the living take care of their own. Do you not have faith in your ruler and kin?"

Allain swallowed at that and looked down. "I do."

"Then trust them," Hel told him sternly. "Return to the Einherjar's hall."

She glanced up at him and the pressure pinning him in place vanished. Before he had a chance to sit up, she teleported him to the entrance of Valhalla. Hel had a feeling that Allain was going to cause more trouble and she looked at the soul with a sigh.

"I thought I dismissed you Sigyn," She said.

"Got me again," Sigyn mused as she approached, having not left after all. "I know I was quiet that time."

Hel smiled at the game Sigyn had turned this into. "You obviously have a question of your own. If it's about Loki then there isn't much I can do since he is living and you are not."

"I know," Sigyn nodded, her hair colored golden like wheat swayed with the movement. "I just wanted to know if the rumors the new Ljósálfr have been spreading are true. If anyone would know it would be you."

"They're true," Hel agreed quickly. "Hallien is just an alias uncle Set is using until he reincarnates fully."

Sigyn didn't say anything else, and Hel raised her eyes from the soul to Sigyn's baffled look.

"I suppose it's only normal for you to be surprised," Hel mused.

"What exactly is Hallien then?" Sigyn asked humbly instead of demanding.

"He is an Incarnate," Hel shrugged. "The actual Ljósálfr who was born to Amras was stillborn, and Set placed his soul into the infant's body. He sealed his memories away to avoid complications, and did the same to his powers so that the sheer strength of them would not vaporize the mortal host. Once enough time passes, the mortal body he has borrowed will become strong enough that he will not need to limit his powers. Once his powers are freed, so are his memories, and he will be Set once more."

"So Hallien is just an alias Set is going by until he can fully reincarnate into his new body," Sigyn understood. "Once the limiter on his power fades and he starts going by the name Set again."

"Then he will have his own body and be back at full strength," Hel agreed. "I have just a fraction of the power I once did because I lack a solid form, and because I am bound to this world I cannot try and reincarnate as he did."

"The body of the Ljósálfr infant he used," Sigyn pried.

"Was stillborn," Hel repeated. "It's soul had already fled, leaving behind a shell which Set used. The younger the host when possessed the higher the chance that it will acclimate. It isn't easy to reincarnate. Not only does the mortal body have to survive long enough for the limiter to be released it has to become strong enough to withstand the immortal's power and evolve. Set has been trying for fifteen thousand years to reincarnate into a new body, and for the first time ever it looks like he might have it."

"Set's going to fully reincarnate," Sigyn whispered.

"Yes," Hel smiled. "The limiters on his power are started to disappear, and it won't be long until he starts to get his powers back. Set, or Hallien still, is starting to have his body adapt to the immortal's power. It is feeling the strain, but if he survives he'll reincarnate in a year or two at most."

"What will Set do when he does return?" Sigyn asked worriedly.

"It depends on him," Hel shrugged. "Normally Set wouldn't have much love for mortals and he'd be insulted that he got so close to them. In that case, he would likely kill Eragon and the other mortals he was close to as Hallien, and might do something to Alfheim as well. Of course, he would also still have the memories of growing up as a mortal. His time as Hallien might change his personality. Truthfully, I have no idea which way it will go."

Neither did Hel care, Sigyn knew. She usually didn't.

Hel narrowed her eyes at the soul in her hand. What she had told Allain was true, and the affairs of living mortals were of no concern to her. The war on Alfheim though also involved her uncle Set, who would go back to being Set very soon. What happened during the war would likely determine what happened with Set.

Set was an Elder God, and he would have a body back so he would be at full power. Hel would not be able to do a thing against him and depending on his mood when he got his memories and powers back, he could do a lot of damage. Just this once, it might be in Hel's best interest to interfere.

This time Sigyn really did leave to think over everything she had been told a great deal a lot on her mind, and Hel was left alone looking at the soul. Hel stood and walked to one of the giant stained glass windows once Sigyn left, and overlooked the area around Eljudnir.

The dragon Nídhögg who lived on Niflheim was curled up sound asleep in the courtyard, his scales of bronze and emerald darkened by the fog. His ivory teeth and claws were chipped and stained with blood from where he had been working to try and gnaw at the roots of Yggdrasil, the World Tree, and make it fall. There were two bone spurs sticking out of his shoulders where his wings had once been before Gaea had torn them from his shoulders because he had defended Hel and dared disobey Gaea.

Lying in a heap next to the wingless dragon was Cerebus, the only other living creature on Niflheim. All three heads of the giant wolf-like hound were asleep. The middle head opened his golden eyes and looked up at Hel detecting her presence. This stirred the other two heads, one with red eyes and one with violet, and of course, it stirred Nídhögg.

He hissed at Cerebus irritably, telepathically demanding that the *mangy mutt shut up or leave so he could get some rest.*

Hel telepathically soothed Cerebus's heads and the one by one they settled down and fell asleep again. Nídhögg huffed and then rested his head back on his forelimbs. Hel genuinely smiled, a rare occurrence, and looked at the soul in her hand.

It was a child's soul, and terribly scratched and scarred for one so young. Oily black shadows had leeched into the pure coloration, revealing that the child had killed before, many times, and did not regret it. In fact, the child thought the killing was of so little concern that she had forgotten about it. This soul was somewhat terrifying, but it was a soul raised on Alfheim. With any luck, returning this soul should shift the war going on there.

All throughout his reincarnation, Set had been acting surprisingly cordial and accepting, two words that were rarely associated with him. He was concerned for this soul, something that further surprised Hel. She believed that once his memories began to return he would go back to acting like his usual self, but she was no longer sure.

Cerebus's gold-eyed head, the one most in tune with Hel, stirred and opened his eyes again. Hel quickly soothed him back to sleep. Since the gold head was in the middle, if he awoke, the other two would as well and they would probably stir Nídhögg as well. Due to the wear and tear on his teeth and claws, he wouldn't bite or strike at Cerebus, but he would likely give them a few good whips with his prehensile snake-like tail. Nídhögg was one of those beings that _hated_ being woken up in the middle of his sleep, and was very cranky when he was awakened.

Hel grasped a pinch of her magic and took a step forward on Niflheim – putting her foot down on the surface of Alfheim. She was blinded by the unfiltered sunlight and ducked her head, raising her free arm to shield her eyes. Currently she was above Alfheim's canopy, and she regretted coming her during the day. Once her eyes adjusted a little she lowered her arm and looked around to make sure she was in the right spot.

She was, and the body that this soul belonged to was still lying on the stone floor. Hel approached, and tssked when she saw the injuries to the body. That was done by Erve Gov, and impossible to repair. At least, it was impossible for a living body. This body was dead though, and that meant it was within Hel's jurisdiction.

Hel held the soul in one hand and ran her other hand near the injuries to the body's arm and leg. The skin mended, bones set, blood vessels wove together again, and nerves rejoined. It was fortunate that this body had died or Hel wouldn't have been able to do a thing to heal it. She made sure to repeat the treatment to the rest of the body's internal injuries and recreate the heart so it was whole again.

With the primary injuries mended, Hel held the soul close to the body. The fuchsia outer shell was lifeforce and power, and what a mage drew off of to use magic. It was the golden dust at the core of the soul, the essence, which made a person who they were. Hel was surprised when the essence lit up and began to swirl as it sensed its body was near. This soul was a handful, so Hel didn't doubt it would be able to make an impact. Would it be good or bad for Set's personality? Would it kill Set before he was able to finish reincarnating, or protect him?

This body was over a day dead instead of a few minutes as it usually was when Hel decided to resurrect someone, and she felt wary as she repaired the rigor mortis and decomposition that had already begun. She had never resurrected a body dead for so long, or with such severe injuries. Returning this soul when it was clearly past its time might not end well for the soul. There could be complications.

Well, Hel thought as she reached forward towards the body's chest. This child only needed to live long enough to make a difference, so a few complications shouldn't matter. Her hand with the soul reached incorporeally through the child's chest and directly replaced the soul back to its body.

Hel stood as the body's network of blood vessels glowed golden and looked out over Alfheim. The canopy below looked like a green sea with clear blue sky above that was beginning to be painted with the colors of sunset. Night was approaching. It had been so long since Hel had last seen the sun or the sky that she looked at the sight before her in a daze until she felt a pain in her chest where her soul had once been.

Her soul was now Niflheim, and that was what tied her to the planet. She had been away too long and she sighed, reluctant to leave the view. Hel had no choice however and took a step forward from Niflheim to Alfheim.

Just before Hel left, she whispered the body's name, "Tilaria."

Tilaria's eyes snapped open and she gasped at a wrenching pain in her chest as her heart started beating again. It took a moment for her body to remember how to breathe. As soon as it did, she took a deep breath and doubled over, losing her lunch. She looked around but realized she was alone on Anar's ruined base at Lome Elen.

"Could have sworn I heard someone say my name…" Tilaria whispered, still coughing.

She looked down at her hands, amazed that she was alive. For sure she would have thought Daris had killed her. Tilaria realized she was moving both of her hands and looked down at the damage to her limbs inflicted by Daris's blood crystal. They were all healed as if they had never been injured, and that was how Tilaria knew something was wrong. Erve Gov wounds could not be healed so easily.

She stood slowly to test the limbs, and shook her head in amazement. Something had certainly happened, but Tilaria had no idea what. Since she wasn't going to find out, she looked at the sunset and wondered how long she had been unconscious. Then her thoughts shot back to Eragon and she started to walk along the base. When her limbs didn't give, she began to run. As she had no skill in teleportation, she would have to move quick to make it back to the capital.

Back on Niflheim, Hel sat once more on her throne of bones. This should make the game a little more interesting. Depending on what happened, Hel may not be the only immortal in the Nine Realms for much longer.

Now uncle Set, Hel thought, what will you do next?

* * *

**As i believe i've said, this Marvel AU does not just take place on Asgard with the princes, or only talk about Asgard and Jotunnheim. It encompasses ALL nine realms because what happens on one realm affects the other eight. What's happening on Alfheim currently is certainly going to have repercussions for Asgard later on. If you go to Marvel's website you'll find that Set is one of the biggest super villains in the Thorverse. Do not underestimate how much things might change in a year IF Set returns.**

**If you want to learn a bit about Norse mythology then type in a search bar "_Norse Mythology For Smart People_" to get the website. It talks about the people, places, and tales that make up Norse mythology. It does so in a way that is easy to understand, even if you have no previous knowledge, and the articles are also short. I'm not allowed to add a link directly so just type that.**


	22. The Whisper of the Leaves

Eragon was lying on his stomach in his hammock, looking at his wristbow mildly when the lightvines whispered that someone was outside. The plants told him it was his father, and that he wanted to speak to him. When Eragon didn't give the vines a response, the rustling leaves that chimed off the crystal flowers fell silent.

_*Eragon*_ Hallien transmitted directly into Eragon's mind. _*Let me in*_

_*Why should I?*_ Eragon demanded back in the same technique. _*You are just a murderer no better than Daris!*_

Hallien recoiled from the brand of murderer, and then snapped back. _*I had to in order to save you, and Tilaria told me to leave. With my blood magic sealed, I would not have been able to aid her anyway, and would have only gotten in her way while leaving you defenseless.*_

_*What do you even want?* _Eragon demanded. _*I am safer in my room then outside of it, so are you really going to make me leave?*_

_*Not that*_ Hallien shook his head, and made the move telepathic so Eragon could tell he had done it. _*Where is my crown?*_

_*I threw it out the window!*_ Eragon snapped and shut down the telepathic link his father had established with him.

"What?" Hallien snarled under his breath when Eragon said that and dismissed the briars in front of his room.

He stalked inside and was greeted by the sight of Eragon holding his active wristbow at him again. His eyes were unnaturally cold. Why was it that all of Hallien's children ended up looking at him with such cold eyes? That thought made absolutely no sense to him since he had only one child and this was the first time Eragon had been acting like that. When he realized where the memory had come from, he sobered and stood before his son.

"You threw it out the window?" Hallien repeated. "Why would you do that? Eragon, we might as well be at war against my cousin Daris. The crown is the key pin to this war."

"Morland," Eragon snapped and lowered his wristbow without putting it into sleep mode. "The crown's been taken back to Carad Tyela, the volcano in Morland. I thought that was where Uncle Daris would go because it is one of the only places the flora will not touch and I was right. That is where they are."

Hallien stared at his son in surprise, "you used the Emerald Crown as bait to learn the enemy's location?"

No that technically hadn't been Eragon's intention, but he had realized it was a bad idea to throw the crown away and had asked the forest to bring it back to him. The trees had apologized that they couldn't and told him that the crown was in Morland. Eragon had realized that had to be where Daris was, but he wasn't going to tell his father he didn't have a plan.

"Yes," Eragon lied and deactivated his wristbow, turning away from his father and lying on his stomach again. "It does not matter who holds the Emerald Crown, since only you can use it."

"Morland," Myrin repeated to himself softly.

He was standing beside Eragon's doorway, having accompanied Hallien. Hallien hadn't coughed up any more blood since his attack in the forest, and Myrin was both grateful his friend was feeling better and annoyed that he hadn't had another chance to kill him. Rane hadn't mentioned he had the Emerald Crown when he'd spoken to Myrin a few hours ago, nor said that Daris and the others were at Morland. Myrin was only so surprised since Morland was practically the only place they could go where the forest wouldn't touch them.

The information about Daris's location was worthwhile, but now was not be the best time for Hallien to be seen without his crown. His Emerald Crown was the sign that he was king, and there were currently questions about him being king since he was Set. Hallien knew that his flashback to his other children had to be the children he had had fifteen thousand years ago before the Elder Gods had fallen and he had lost his body. Those memories returning could only mean that he wouldn't be Hallien much longer.

Before he went back to being Set he needed to ensure Alfheim and Eragon would be safe. To do that, he needed to kill Daris. Once he was dead then there would be no other royals besides himself and Eragon, and the rebels would lose their sway. After that, he just needed to kill Merrith, because the Seraph's strength and popularity was quite an asset to them.

Getting his crown back would be a good start, and now that he knew where they were, he could do that. Eragon rolled over and glared at Hallien, asking silently for him to leave now. Hallien sighed at the venomous chill in his eyes and then turned and left. There was no speaking to Eragon when he was like this. He had just lost a sibling because of Hallien, and he would need time. His immortal children had never forgiven him for the death of his youngest child, but maybe Eragon would forgive him for losing an older sibling.

Hallien let the crystal-thorned briars regrow behind him, wishing that he could think straight. Myrin glanced up at Hallien as he walked by, and then fell in pace beside him.

"Do you have believe him?" Myrin asked.

"I did not bother to reach out for my crown's location earlier because I assumed Eragon had it," Hallien admitted, "but now that I do try and find it, I cannot. It is not anywhere nearby, and I cannot pinpoint its location. Daris likely has it by now, and since he is royal he could blur my connection with it."

"Morland," Myrin repeated softly. "The cursed land that Alfheim itself fears. It is a fitting place for a traitor's base."

Hallien nodded agreement, but was wary. Even though he now had a location and a goal in mind, he had no idea how many elves were at Morland. There was also the fact that he didn't know how many of his men were traitors loyal to Daris. If they tried to march on Morland he didn't doubt someone would warn Daris. It would turn into a bloody war, and Hallien did not relish killing. Had he in his previous life?

"I guess I do not have a choice," Hallien sighed. "Myrin, contact Hanis and Merlara. We are going to strike at Daris."

Myrin stopped walking for a moment and then caught up to his king and target as Hallien wove a glamour around his brow to make it look like he still wore the Emerald Crown. "The leaders of the Silver Arrows and mages? One of them could be a traitor."

"At this point anyone could be a traitor," Hallien reminded him dourly. "Right now I am just going to assume that everyone is, but traitor or not the sooner Daris is killed the sooner this ends. With him dead, the rebels lose their royal to crown."

Something about Hallien's tone made Myrin's skin crawl, or maybe it was the shadows in his eyes and that when he turned, the light reflected his blue-silver eyes crimson for a brief moment. Didn't Set have red eyes? He already knew that Hallien was Set in his past life, but it seemed he was really turning into Set again. Hallien had to be killed before he returned to being an immortal and Daris had to be warned what was heading his way.

_*Eragon* _Hallien contacted his son telepathically without Myrin's knowledge. _*I need your help.*_

_*With what?*_ Eragon snapped arrogantly, still sulking.

_*I need you to tell Alfheim to be on guard*_ Hallien said softly in a humble voice. _*Someone will try to warn Daris that I am going to assemble an attack force against him. Can you stop any messages from being sent?*_

Eragon thought about it and sat up in his hammock. _*I can stop runners and messenger birds as they try to pass through the trees, but I cannot prevent telepathy.*_

_*I can do something about the mages* _Hallien promised his son. _*Will you keep the forest on alert?*_

_*Why should I?* _Eragon demanded.

_*The sooner Daris is eliminated the safer you will be*_ Hallien told him. _*Do you not want revenge for Tilaria? Once he is gone then this war will end.*_

Eragon tssked and looked towards his wall, and then he sighed. His feud with his father was secondary in this case. He needed to help Alfheim, and he was in a perfect position to have the planet aid them while staying safe in his room.

_*Fine*_ Eragon muttered and closed the link.

Hallien didn't expect Eragon to forgive him, and his agreement was enough. Eragon closed his eyes and reached out to Alfheim, rubbing his arms as he did so to fend off a chill in the air. Rather than speak to the planet, he contacted the palace tree and had his message be passed along from tree to tree.

The trees shifted, rustling their braches and flexing their roots. Their leaves whispered a language only a druid could understand, and a druid in the forest stopped hunting hares with the arrow of her bow drawn to her cheek. Her hesitation cost her and the rabbit she had seen stopped munching on ferns and ran off. She relaxed her draw on the arrow and sighed.

"How did ya miss that Ēostre?" Micha asked as he approached her with an abandoned cloak he had found in his arms half-full of strawberries and blackberries.

When the female Night Hair didn't answer her hunting partner, Micha tapped his foot against her shin, hands full. She jumped at the movement and glanced at Micha.

"Micha?" Ēostre asked and lowered her bow so the arrow pointed towards the ground. "Were you saying something?"

Micha sighed. He and Ēostre weren't family, but her family often shared food with Micha and let him sleep at their place during heavy storms. In return, he helped Ēostre go into the forest and collect food. Ēostre was lucky enough to have a family, and a recurve bow she had made from a branch of a yew tree her parents had helped her make. While she hunted, Micha forged, and Micha usually collected the most of the two of them. Unlike Dökkálfr, Ljósálfr primarily ate plant matter instead of meat.

Ēostre looked up at a tree with a focused look, the hand-made arrows in her quiver clicking together. Her eyes the color of spring fresh leaves narrowed. What had the trees just mentioned?

Micha followed her eyes to a tree and then at his friend. "Ēostre, did you hear something again?"

Ēostre didn't have any training, so although the young Druid could hear the trees whispering she had no idea what they were saying. She was older then Micha or Eragon, and had a jagged scar on the side of her neck where she had accidently crossed a blonde-haired elf as a child. Reluctantly, Ēostre freed her arrow from the bowstring and replaced it in the quiver that was slung over her right shoulder, wishing that she had a Silver Arrow bow that could collapse its size and materialize its own arrows.

"I did," Ēostre agreed. "Something is happening, but I cannot understand what the trees are saying."

"Too bad Night Hairs aren't allowed to get training for their magic," Micha scoffed and ate one of the blackberries he had collected.

"Come on," Ēostre said seriously. "I have collected two rabbits. That will be enough for tonight. Let us skin them, and then return to the city."

This was worrying her enough that they were cutting their forging short? Micha nodded as he set the berries to one side, and knelt by a rabbit she had collected earlier. Ēostre drew the serrated daggers on her belt and gave Micha one as she knelt by the other rabbit. They took the rabbits out of the meadow and then skinned and gutted them. The skins and meat were gathered with a few of the bones and the two of them returned to the city. Rather than unstring her bow, Ēostre kept it in her hand all the way to the city, ready for combat if needed.

Meanwhile Eragon's message was passed along the trees past the fidgety Night Hairs all the way to Morland. The trees turned their attention to Morland, but none uprooted themselves and crossed the field of lava rock to the volcano. They could not hear what happened inside, but whispered word back to Eragon that Merrith had flown overhead to the volcano with a passenger only a few minutes ago.

Merrith was standing to one side as Rane kneeled in front of Daris with his arms above his head. Daris Anarson, cousin of Hallien Amrasson, lifted the Emerald Crown from Rane's hands with the awestruck look of a child. Rane stood respectfully as Daris held the crown to the light of the witchlight orbs that hovered overhead with a smile.

"You got it Rane," Daris said in a whisper voice. "How did you get this?"

"It got separated from Hallien," Rane explained. "Although I know not how, I came across a junior guard loyal to him carrying it. I also delivered orders to Myrin. He will act as soon as an opportunity prevents itself and eliminate Hallien, but he will not waste his chance so it may be some time before he strikes."

"Fine, fine," Daris dismissed and set the Emerald Crown on his brow as if he were king.

It was slightly too large for him, and it would not adjust itself to fit him as he was not king. Daris knew it would once Hallien and Eragon were dead. Then it would have no choice but to accept him. He remembered that his father had thought the same thing when he had slain Amras and stolen the Emerald Crown, only for Hallien and his friends destroy his plan.

"Why did you lure Hallien to the ruins in the first place?" Merrith asked irritably.

Rane took a step towards him at the insulting tone he addressed Daris with. "Why you rat, show more respect to your king!"

"Because that!" Daris interrupted in a tone on the edge of shouting, and then took a breath and calmed himself. "Hallien was isolated there, and that was where he killed my father. The irony was enjoyable, and it would have worked if Tilaria had not appeared. That will not happen again as she is dead now, and now I have Hallien's crown. A king without his crown, ha, I can only imagine what the other Ljósálfr will say when they realize I bear it instead of him."

He solidified the air in front of him into a reflective mirror, and adjusted the crown. When it still didn't fit quite right, he scowled. The mirror shattered into hundreds of pieces as the charm broke.

Rane had fallen quiet obediently when Daris spoke, and only when Daris finished did he speak up. "Tilaria cannot interfere again so there is no way for us to be thwarted, and we also have the element of surprise. Not only does Hallien not know where we are, he has no idea how many troops we have and who he can trust. Only three more weeks are needed before our jewel hidden on Svartalfheim is battle ready."

"And what exactly is this jewel?" Merrith asked arrogantly. "It must be quite a superweapon for you to put such faith in its power."

"It is," Rane promised.

He didn't say what it was though, and that irked Merrith. These flightless terras were so arrogant despite not having any power. Merrith looked away with a tssk and left the room without bowing to Daris. Rane took a step forward as Merrith left as if to go after him and make him show respect to Daris, but Daris flicked his hand at Rane to stand down. He needed the narcissistic Seraph on his side far more then he needed a few bows. After all, the only one who could typically kill a Seraph was another Seraph, and Merrith was the only one currently alive.

Merrith stepped outside of the base, tempted to spread his wings and enjoy the twilight coolness as the sun finished setting. He couldn't risk being seen though and exposing the base's location, so he sat on top of the overhang and watched as the last traces of the sun vanished and starts began to appear. Tonight was a full moon, and a cool breeze ruffled his golden hair. The chill in the breeze startled Merrith and he rubbed his arms, not used to feeling such a chill on Alfheim – the realm within an eternal summer.

The unnaturally nippy wind increased the drove Merrith back inside the volcano before long, leaving him to wonder why it was so cold. The cold air was just another mystery, though the most perplexing one currently facing Merrith was the jewel. What was Daris's jewel?

* * *

**What is Daris's jewel? I'm afraid that you won't find out for some time, but there is a winter chill in the air of the summer realm. In a planet of nature where every member of their species has magic i thought it odd for there to be so few Druids. So Light Elves not only have the most Druids among their races, most Druids from of the Nine Realms are Light Elves. It's pretty much a racial magic, like Jotnar with ice. Others have it, but it's not common.**

_***Fun Fact: Ēostre is a Germanic deity of fertility, and goddess of the spring. She was celebrated on spring equinox and her sacred animal was a rabbit. Anglo-Saxons liked her, and Easter has been around long before Jesus. Christianity just changed Easter to what it currently is in Christianity. Easter egg hunts are symbolic for renewal and rebirth. _**Even the names **_**Ēostre and Easter sound similar. ** Sources on her are conflicted though, so accounts cannot be confirmed.**_


	23. Some Things Never Change

Hallien sat at the center horseshoe shaped table, and there were three seats on either side of him. Only one of the three seats to his left was occupied, this by Galia, the only one of his three civilian advisors that was able to attend with Arlen dead and Daris rouge. To Hallien's right, all three seats with the commanders of Alfheim's military were full. Myrin, the Commander of the Immortal Guard, sat directly to Hallien's right. Next to Myrin was Hanis, the Commander of the Silver Arrows, and beside Hanis farthest from Hallien was Merlara, the Commander and Archmage of Alfheim's mages.

Normally these six Ljósálfr took votes with Hallien overseeing, and serving as a tiebreaker if needed. Now the four out of the six were here to advise him on what to do against the threat of Daris. Hallien felt his eyesight swim as a slight dizzy spell hit him, and a few seconds later when it passed he found that his eyesight was clearer and sharper than before. He could make out more details now.

"Morland," Merlara repeated in her silvery voice that was clear, light, and pleasant all at once. "Logical. That is one of the few places besides Lome Elen the forest cannot reach, and as such one of the only ones our druids cannot harm."

Hallien, having just finished repeating Eragon's earlier observation, nodded. "Agreed. If we are going to strike then we must do so very soon."

"It is mid-afternoon already," Merlara said softly as she checked the time outside with a charm. "I doubt we will be able to attempt to assemble any sort of a strike force today."

"What about tonight?" Hallien asked.

Hanis leaned back, and exchanged a surprised look with Galia, being an ally of hers. "Tonight? You want us to strike at night in the dark?"

"Are you scared of the dark?" Myrin asked sarcastically, knowing that he should be trying to postpone this attack instead of edging them into attacking.

"No," Halis snapped, "but we are Ljósálfr, not Dökkálfr. The night is not our domain. At night the trees sleep, so we do not have the support of the druids. Our night vision is very poor."

"Could we do it by night?" Hallien repeated, looking right towards the three military commanders.

"No reason why not," Merlara shrugged, "but who do we trust? Only some of Daris's troops were activated. There will be spies in all three of our military branches, and likely in the civilian population as well."

She glanced at Galia and then back at Hallien. Something was making Merlara's magic chime, and she looked at Hallien curiously. Were the rumors about Hallien being Set true? Or was something else attracting her magic? Merlara slowly sat up straight and looked at Hallien as her magic realized what the problem was.

"Of course there are spies," Hallien dismissed. "Not moving against Daris will not eliminate the spies. If Daris can be removed from power then his group will lose their royal and will come into line. Merrith will be the only problem, and I will handle him after Daris."

"Hallien," Merlara interrupted, giving him a serious and baffled look. "Where is the Emerald Crown?"

It was quiet for a second and Myrin looked down at the table while Hallien leaned back in surprise at being caught. Galia looked at the others and then at Hallien.

"What?" Galia snapped lowly. "Is he not wearing the crown?"

"That is a glamour around his brow," Merlara announced without looking away from Hallien. "Where is the real one?"

"It seems I am caught," Hallien chuckled lightly and let the glamour around his brow vanish. "As for the real crown, Daris has it."

"Huh?" Halis said stupidly. "Daris has the crown!"

"Yes," Hallien dismissed and leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest instead of laying them on the table.

"How are you so calm about this?" Galia demanded, lightly slapping the palm of her hand on the tabletop. "Do you have any idea how this changes things?"

"It doesn't change things," Hallien dismissed and looked away with a tssk, a rebellious attitude.

"Doesn't," Hanis repeated, surprised to hear Hallien use a contraction.

"I'm king," Hallien continued, using more contractions. "The Emerald Crown will only respond to my orders. It doesn't matter who has it. He can't use it."

"Are you alright?" Myrin asked in surprise, leaning against the side of his chair away from Hallien. "You are talking like an Æsir."

"I feel fine," Hallien promised and then smiled, "better then fine actually."

He did feel amazing. His sight had refocused, allowing him to see the lifeforce of everything present wafting around their form. Since the very room itself was alive it was a spectacular sight, and it was not part of the visible spectrum. The color of life was not a color that could be described or compared in terms of the other colors, and neither was the color of death.

Hallien seemed vaguely aware that everyone was staring at him, and tilted his head at them. The color of life was not complimented by the color of death, a color he liked more than the color of life. His new color faded slightly, but the rest of his vision was left enhanced, sharper and more defined with the colors of the vision enhanced. Ljósálfr could see much more detailed than Æsir with the details and colors were naturally enhanced, but this was far beyond that.

All four Ljósálfr were looking at him intently, and Hallien slowly leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. His senses reawakening had made him giddy and he had slurred his speech with contractions as if he had had a few goblets too many of springwine. He had sounded like an Æsir. The buzz from the rush of power faded and his sight returned to something similar to normal, the unique color of life fading from his sight. It was as if he had just put a veil over his eyes from how dark and blurred his sight became.

"Pardon," Hallien said and stood, head spinning from the temporary swell of power. "Get together a strike force and coordinate with the druids to try and scout Morland. Right now, continue operations normally, but only tell the troops what they need to know and keep security codes tight. Set up the strike for as soon as possible. If that is at night then it is at night. We will figure something out, but I need a schedule."

Hallien pushed the chair back and walked briskly out of the room, the doorway of woven vines retracting to allow him passage into the hall. Behind him, Myrin raised a hand after Hallien and then stood.

"Hallien!" Myrin called out.

"Stay," Hallien tossed over his shoulder as an order.

Once Hallien's footsteps began to fade, the finger-wide branches wove themselves over the doorway again and closed it. Myrin slowly lowered his hand back to the surface of the table and turned back to the other three Ljósálfr still present.

"I guess we should figure out a strike," Myrin flicked his hands upward in exasperation and then set them heavily back onto the table. "We need it to be soon, before Daris catches notice of it."

Myrin knew that after an attack was worked out that he should contact Daris and relay the details, but he was a bit wary of the situation. Hallien had not just acted like Hallien, rather like a different person. If he had to guess, Myrin would say that had been Set's persona showing itself. There wasn't much time before Hallien would stop being a mortal, so there wasn't much time left to kill him. If Hallien was killed though then they would target Eragon next, and Myrin didn't want Eragon to be harmed. He would have to take care with what he did with the information. Hopefully Hallien could hold it together until then.

Hallien wasn't sure if he could at the moment as he stood in the hallway, hands covering his face. His hands were shaking and he could hear his heartbeat loud in his mind. The surge of power was gone, and Hallien was left exhausted after that as if he was on the downside of a virus and needed bedrest to recover from the weakness in his muscles. He wanted the power back, and that scared him.

Hallien exhaled deeply and ran his fingers through his hair, looking up at the ceiling of branches that mirrored the one he stood on. He realized that he hadn't recreated the illusion that he still had the Emerald Crown and rectified that as he lowered his hands. Merlara was strong enough to tell the difference, of course she was, but no one else should realize he lacked the crown with a look. Word would spread as that was how the grapevine operated, but Hallien hoped he had a brief leave of peace.

As it would turn out, Hallien lacked even that. In the kitchens one level below the ground under the cool earth to keep the Ljósálfr that worked in there cool despite the heat the ovens generated, word was whispered of the first battle of the civil war. The battle was being called the Battle of the Long Night, the night when Daris's treachery had been revealed and both the palace with Eragon and Lome Elen with Daris. It was the night Tilaria had let herself be killed so Hallien could survive and reinforce Eragon.

Three blonde-haired Ljósálfr servants were preparing dinner for some of those within the palace, and were whispering about that night. Their current topic was on the half of the battle at Lome Elen, where it had been blood mage against blood mage. Nearby, a night hair servant was stirring a kettle sauce and a blonde-haired servant boy was carrying food to different places in the kitchen. The night hair was close enough to listen to the three as they chattered, and the child set the spices by the night hair and then went to ferry something else quickly.

"I find it hard to believe that the half-breed had anything to do with saving lives," one of the three started.

"What?" The second one scoffed. "Well, I agree, but I trust the king's word. He has no reason to lie about that."

"You trust him?" The third said very softly. "Is he not…"

An uncomfortable silence fell between the three, and the night hair stirred the sweet golden sauce. The sauce was called Nectar, and a few of the ingredients included a dilution of honey and a bit of springwine. He tasted it to make sure that it had not turned sour as it could easily do and that it was not sickeningly sweet. It was fine on both accounts, and the night hair drizzled a teaspoon of sugared vanilla into the mixture.

"There is no way Hallien is Set," the second servant said sharply and bluntly. "It is propaganda spread by Daris. Daris is royal as well and he wants the crown from Hallien. Accusing Hallien of being a Set is a rather extreme of doing it, but it is a method of discrediting both Hallien and his son. I cannot believe he would use such a ridiculous excuse."

"That is the thing," the third chewed a lip. "Why would Daris use such a ridiculous excuse as calling Hallien Set? A lie is meant to be easily believed, for that is the purpose of it. Why would he say something as impossible as that if it was a lie? He must have proof."

"Then where is it?" The second demanded. "Daris has given nothing of the sort, and that means there is no proof because _it is a lie_. His troops obey him because he has them fooled just as you are fooled."

"Now wait a minute," the third one started to argue.

The first Ljósálfr finally stopped the other two before they could start arguing with a reminder that they had dinner to prepare and to stop twittering like finches. The night hair smiled at how neutrally the blonde had managed to diffuse the situation, and added a tablespoon of slightly sour ginger powder to prevent the Nectar from becoming too sweet. He stirred in the ginger, amused by both the servants and wondering if he could manage to steal some Nectar.

Nectar was a first-class sauce, and something a night hair family would normally never get used to, but he might be able to steal a little. His younger sister Ēostre had gone out hunting with her friend Micha. Micha would likely get some fruit, and Ēostre would no doubt manage to catch something with her bow. Meat with a little Nectar sprinkled on it was delicious, so maybe he could treat her, Micha, and their parents to something special. It wasn't every day a night hair like him was permitted to work inside the palace or even be hired by a blonde, and Nectar would be far better than the normal table scraps he scavenged for his family.

"She did like Eragon," the second elf muttered. "He naïvely trusts her despite her mixed blood, and because she likes him she was willing to die for him. It is only because she died that Eragon survived."

"Then why did Tilaria try to kill our king?" The third asked. "Maybe she knew what he was."

"Then why did she save Hallien from Daris?" The second continued.

The night hair thought that the three of them needed to quiet and resume work before their light bickering turned into a heated argument. Internal strife was the worst possible thing right now. They needed to stay united to handle Daris. It was all that could be done with a civil war where you fought not another species, but your kin.

He put the lid on the Nectar to let it simmer for a few minutes. After that, he would add a pinch of lilac petals and it would be finished. The nobles would be pleased. He picked up the tray of leftover ingredients and turned away to pass the tray back to the supply room, only to bump into one of the three Ljósálfr who had turned away.

The tray was knocked form the night hair's hands, and the pitcher of spring water the blonde had been holding was knocked onto his tunic and then down to the floor. He shoved the night hair away from him and stepped back, looking at his soaked tunic and the empty wooden pitcher.

"Watch it!" The blonde accused and shook his hands, looking at his tunic. "You fool."

"I am sorry," the night hair said and instantly bowed his head, aware that as a night hair he was at a disadvantage. "I did not realize you had stepped away."

This was the danger of working in the palace. He recognized this elf as the mild-mannered first one of the three that had tried to keep the other two neutral.

"Oh no?" The blonde demanded. "What is your name?"

Ēostre's older brother hesitated and then admitted, "Atrel."

"Atrel," the blonde repeated. "What is a night hair like you doing in the palace anyway?"

"I cook," Atrel responded dryly. "I am very good at making the finer foods nobles have a taste for."

"Cook," the more volatile of the three that had challenged Daris's claim tossed out. "Do you happen to know what Daris is doing?"

Atrel drew his slim, well-arched eyebrows closer together as he looked at his new challenger. "Why would I be aware of anything like that?"

"You are a night hair," the blonde Ljósálfr before him casually tossed out as if that was the obvious answer. "If anyone would betray us it would be you night hairs. After all you have the blood of the Dökkálfr barbarians. That is why your hair is black."

Atrel took wary step back, disliking the tone this was taking. "I know nothing more of the situation then you do, less I would imagine since informing night hairs is not a priority. We are not allowed to join military branches or be trained as mages, and so far the only defectors are one of those three categories. "

"So you think that it is us blondes who are behind this?" One blonde crossed his arms over his chest while his companion used his small amount of magic to dry his clothes.

Atrel didn't say anything as he tried to figure out an answer, and that was evidently the wrong move because the third of the group of Ljósálfr grabbed him by the front of his tunic and slammed him into the counter. Thankfully he didn't knock over the Nectar because that stuff was expensive to make, and losing a batch of it would cost him dearly as he would have to pay for it in coins and other punishment. He was scared, but could sense from his surroundings that although their actions had startled the other servants no one was attempting to stop them. Why should they?

"If anyone is likely to be a traitor around here then it is you blondes," Atrel challenged. "The only traitors so far are members of the military and mages, and they are only made up of blondes. No night hairs are known to be allied to Daris, _only_ blondes. If anyone is a traitor or spying for Daris undercover then it is one of you three!"

One of them punched him, and Atrel's head jerked to one side as the blow solidly connected. Pain flashed and then faded as the blow healed itself. The sound as the blow hit his face drew some attention, but after a quick glance to see what the source of the sound was, everyone went back to what they were doing. It was not their concern, and it was just a night hair after all.

Galia's standing on dealing with night hairs was traditional if a little radical, and Hallien's acceptance of a night hair like Arlen that was unnatural. Hallien had claimed that he was more neutral towards night hair and might try to give them rights, but had hadn't. Other than making Arlen his prime civilian advisor, something that only benefited Arlen, nothing had changed. In fact, Galia had twisted Hallien's move to make things worse for the night hairs.

The young blonde servant's child took advantage of the thrashing to sneak closer to a bowl of candied violets, one of the most popular deserts on Alfheim. A wood spoon sitting next to the bowl hovered off the surface of the table and rapped the back of the boy's hand. The sound of the hit was lost as Atrel was thrown to the ground with another strike. It appeared that the three of them were taking the frustration and tension of the civil war, and rumors of Set out on him.

The boy jerked his hand back and rubbed the back of the wounded one with his good hand despite the wound healing with a second. He looked at his wounded hand without sparing a glance at Artel and then up shyly as a much older Ljósálfr approached. Silver streaked her blonde hair, but due to the grace with which the Ljósálfr aged she was able to move with the ease as if she were millennia younger then she was.

"Ryar," the older Ljósálfr scolded.

Ryar held his hands close to his chest shyly as he looked up at the executive chef in charge of the palace kitchen.

"Liluth," Ryar addressed her shyly.

"Your chores are not done for the day," she warned him as she crossed her arms over the chest. "Resume at once."

The tips of Ryar's ears turned red under her serious expression, and tipped his head obediently. He shied away from her and resumed running errands around the kitchen. She sighed at the child and put a hand to her forehead. With a wave of her hand, the spoon settled back onto the table and she turned towards the troublemakers.

Magic the same green as her eyes echoed around her hand as she snapped her fingers towards the four. The three blondes attacked Atrel were thrown off of him telekinetically and fell to the ground. Atrel coughed up a mouthful of blood as Liluth approached them, and she stood over the night hair and looked down at all four of them. Blood ran from Atrel's lips and nose, and more from his temple as Atrel pushed himself into a sitting position.

"If you four have a fight, you are free to settle your dispute. But you will take it out of the kitchen, and wait until after the evening meal has been served." Liluth ordered. "Whatever it is _will_ wait until then, clear?"

The three blondes looked at each other as they stood and said in unison, "yes sir."

Liluth looked down at Atrel, and he nodded agreement weakly. With a sharp glare at Atrel, the other three returned to their posts. Atrel grabbed the edge of the counter to haul himself to his feet, leaning heavily on it. A glance from Liluth replaced the tray on Atrel's counter, and the pitcher of water that had started the commotion went on the other counter. The water that had spilled purified itself so it was safe to drink and dumped itself back into the pitcher, so it was as if it had never fallen.

Atrel stood there, braced against the counter, for a few seconds while the pain receded and the blood removed itself from his lungs so he could breathe. Liluth realized that Atrel wasn't moving and fixed him with one of her hard glares.

"Get to work," she ordered him, her tone distinctively sharper than it had been a few seconds ago.

"Give me a second," Atrel said as he breathed heavily, voice damp with blood as he swallowed down a mouthful.

"Get to work," Liluth repeated in a darker tone. "I did no favor to you night hair, but you are a member of the staff. I need you to finish preparing the food for the night, and I will not have the meal ruined. After the meal then I don't particularly care what they do."

Which meant after dinner when Atrel went home to Ēostre and the rest of his family he would be ambushed, and this time their trashing would not be stopped. Atrel might very well end up as one of the thousands of night hairs that were murdered every year, and no one would care. No one would bother holding a trial for a night hair, especially with a blonde involved. He needed a plan.

Ryar left the kitchen as Liluth walked away from Atrel and walked to one of the nearby storage rooms for supplies, thinking about how he might be able to steal some violets without being noticed. He heard voices ahead and stopped walking, peering around the corner curiously. Ahead of him was a blonde-haired Ljósálfr he didn't recognize on sight and an Immortal Guard were speaking.

"We were escorting a night hair off the grounds sir," the guard said with the utmost respect in his voice. "It landed in front of us, and Allain broke off to give it to Myrin. You do not think Allain was a traitor?"

"Considering it is missing I do not see another option," the blonde said smoothly and drummed his fingers against his leg.

There was something familiar about the blonde's voice, but Ryar couldn't place it. He must be very high-ranked for the Immortal Guard to be speaking so sincerely, a noble perhaps.

"I cannot believe Allain is a traitor," the Immortal Guard said darkly. "He never returned to his shift after we parted ways, but I never thought…"

The noble gave him a look a look that could be described as sympathetic, and the two walked away and continued speaking.

"I will do without it, Lieutenant Feraan," the noble assured the Immortal Guard and drummed his fingers on his leg again impatiently. "Since my magic won't cooperate and let me keep a glamour active I will _have_ to do without it."

Ryar tilted his head when he heard the Ljósálfr use the contraction, and the rest of the conservation faded away. He wondered who that noble was and what they were talking about as he slipped into the storage room with the tray in hand. The branches remained parted for him and Ryar walked inside.

He looked up at the shelves to find the spices he needed to deliver, and was looking up when he took a step forward. His foot kicked something, and Ryar looked down curiously. There was a military-grade three-pointed star on the ground, a throwing shard. Slowly, Ryar tucked the tray under his arm and knelt by the shard.

His first attempt to pick up the crystal weapon ended with him making his fingers bloody. He dropped it to the ground, and wished that he was wearing sleeves he could pull down over his hands instead of a sleeveless top and very carefully tried again. This time he was able to pick it up, and the first thing he noticed was that there was blood on it. It was a lot of blood, far more than the few drops that were his. This shard had been used in combat and then dropped as often happened with shards.

Ryar looked around with the shard in one hand as he went inside with the tray in the other hand. He needed to get several spices, and he started towards the nearest one. It was on a higher shelf, and he climbed up to the top with the advantage of his small weight. The container he needed was on the back of his shelf, and he reached an arm towards it to attempt to coax the container forward with his magic.

A drop of moisture landed on his hand he was reaching with, and something about the sensation as the drop of whatever it was ran down his hand that unnerved him. He was distinctly relieved when he managed to retrieve the jar and pull it closer to him. Ryar stopped moving when he saw that the drop of moisture on his hand was not water, and that it had left a red trail on his hand where it had run down. It was blood.

Very slowly, he looked up to see several more drops of blood on the floor of the shelf, and he looked further back under the glow of the lightvine flowers, and saw several trails of blood running down the wall. Against his will, he looked up further to the top of the shelf and saw the source of the blood.

Feraan and the other Ljósálfr with him jumped when they heard the terrified scream behind them. They looked at each other and then ran towards the source of the sound. Out of habit, Feraan shooed the Ljósálfr with him behind him and entered the storage room first with saber drawn. When Feraan didn't attack, his companion stepped in front of him and looked at a startling sight. A blonde Ljósálfr boy was sitting on the ground with a tray next to him, staring upwards at something.

"My king," Feraan hissed when the other Ljósálfr stepped in front of him.

Hallien, unrecognizable by Ryar without his crown, put him at ease with a wave of his hand and walked over to the boy. Ryar was shaking, holding a throwing shard in one hand. It was cutting into his palm and steady drops were falling onto his clothes and the ground. He wasn't even aware of Hallien's presence as he knelt by his side and laid an arm around his shoulders.

Feraan slowly lowered his saber when he realized there was no immediate threat, and approached. He followed Ryar's gaze, the boy still unable to look away from whatever had scared him so badly. His heart sank and he let the tip of the saber touch the ground as he saw what had scared the child. There was a body in Immortal Guard armor shoved on top of the shelves to temporarily hide it.

Hallien saw it as well, and when he saw recognition in Feraan's gaze asked gently. "Do you know who that is?"

"No wonder he never returned," Feraan whispered and took a breath before looking squarely at Hallien. "Allain is no traitor sir because that is his body hidden up there."

"Someone must have intercepted him and decided they wanted the crown," Hallien smiled dryly at the irony. "Considering that the Emerald Crown is now in Daris's hands it must have been one of Daris's pets that killed Allain, Rane if I had to guess."

Hallien took a breath of the air as if scenting it like a cat while Feraan looked at the body with a cold and hard expression. He could taste it in the air, it made his magic sing. Someone had used blood magic here several hours ago, and if Hallien had to bet, he would say that the time the blood magic was used would correspond to Allain's death. Since Daris couldn't come in person without being captured by the palace, that could only mean that he was teaching his followers blood magic. Wonderful, absolutely wonderful.

* * *

**The guard that was with Allain is Feraan, and he's just got a name becuase i didn't want to keep calling him "Immortal Guard." Things are not going to get better for the Night Hairs, and i am sorry if the discrimination that will be in the story offends someone. Things are not perfect in the real world or in this fictional one, and i remind you this is _fictional _and about an alien race. I don't have anything against a black-haired person, but the Ljosalfr do thanks to their phobia about their Dokkalfr cousins who primarily have black hair. It is stupid, but most discrimination is.**

**Hallien is starting to lose it. That's only going to get worse as the story continues as well.**


End file.
